


The Lost Prince

by garbagecan_not_garbagecannot



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Mild Twincest, gendered titles used independent of gender, mild sibling incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-08-17 16:53:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16520309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagecan_not_garbagecannot/pseuds/garbagecan_not_garbagecannot
Summary: After the end of the Long War, the Kingdom of Escana finally settled in peace. With the birth of the twin princes, the kingdom rejoiced. Until the younger twin was stolen, kidnapped.The royal family refuse to give up, even as the years pass. Even as thirty-five years pass...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you write something just for fun. This is one of those times.
> 
> I have no delusions that this is high art, it was done for fun only, hahahaha.

The Kingdom of Escana has a long line of rules gifted with incredible strength in the arcane. This gift takes different forms in the royal family, sometimes as superhuman strength, vitality, speed, or any other attribute. Sometimes it's even visible in their physical appearance.

When King Mundus of the Kingdom of Osnax, so strong in the arcane that his lifespan was far longer than that of most humans, decided he wished to rule more than just his own kingdom, it was the royal family of Escana that became his primary opponents—their strong army and powerful rulers making them the only kingdom capable of withstanding King Mundus' attacks, thus the target of his ambition.

War raged for decades before finally Crown Prince Sparda was crowned upon the death of his mother, King Aldena. King Sparda's power was equal to that of Mundus, and soon the two were locked in a long and bitter war, both of them living for far longer than most would believe possible.

Finally, after two centuries of battles, King Sparda was victorious, striking King Mundus down and ending his evil once and for all.

The Kingdom of Osnax fell, and was soon assimilated into Escana, the opposite of what Mundus had hoped to achieve.

The road to recovery was long and it took another five decades after the war for a form of normality to return to the many kingdoms of the world. Most of them had waited with baited breath for King Sparda to do what King Mundus had, and start the next great war.

However, King Sparda had no such ambitions and instead turned to his people, grieved by the long fighting and his long reign, and asked them if they wished for him to step down. Blaming his own line and their arcane strength for making Escana Mundus' target, he gave his people a chance to be relieved of his rule and to elect a new king.

This, the people of Escana, and what was once Osnax, decidedly refused. The big election asking for the King's continued reign by a tremendous margin.

Strengthened by the the backing of his people, King Sparda finally settled down in his role as king, and started to look for a Queen. He could not be sure how much longer he would live, already having 275 years under his belt, but his appearance was still that of a fairly young man, so he did not think himself on death's door, at least.

Per Escana traditions, he should have had a Queen, a second regent to help shoulder the burden of ruling, since not long after he took the throne. it was only due to the war that the tradition was put to the side, though Sparda had certainly felt the strain of ruling on his own.

Another three years passed before King Sparda found the great love of his life in the common born Eva, daughter of a merchant family residing in the capital.

After a rather awkward, if endearing to Eva, courting process, they were finally married in a grand wedding, witnessed on projector crystals across the entire kingdom—and even on projector crystals in neighbouring countries such as Arhemia, which had just recently seen its own royal wedding between Queen Celine and King Consort Arkham.

Just a few years after the wedding, King Sparda and Queen Eva could happily announce that a royal heir would soon make their way into the world.

Just a few months after that, the royal healer could happily tell them that it was not one child residing in Queen Eva's womb, it was two.

Upon this being related to the public, the Kingdom of Escana fell into months of celebrations, as clearly the union of King Sparda and Queen Eva was blessed. Twins are a sign of utmost luck and future prosperity as it means that at birth there will be a future King and Queen. Twins rule together, whoever gets which title depending on who is born first, regardless of gender. Unlike many of its neighbours, Escana's royal titles are not bound to gender, and it's an absolute primogeniture, where the first born child becomes heir—twins being the exception—regardless of gender.

Upon the birth of the twins, it became even more clear to the people of Escana that it was a blessed union, for the children born were identical twins—which in Escana is believed to be two halves of one perfect being, full people in their own right, but each other's perfect complement. Furthermore, they were born with even more arcane strength than even their father, apparent in their silver-white hair and pale blue eyes.

The twins were Named, as per Escana traditions, and their true names kept secret, known only to the immediate family: Sparda, Eva, and the twins themselves. Only once they came of age at eighteen would their names be revealed in a public Unveiling.

So Escana had two heirs in the Crown Prince And Future King and Twin Prince And Future Queen.

Life in Escana was good. The kingdom prospered and the people were happy, poverty and misery at an all time low.

The twins grew up well, playing with their cousins on their mother's side, learning and growing.

And they proved Escana beliefs about identical twins quite true. Where the Crown Prince was reserved and calm, the Twin Prince was outgoing and excited. The Twin Prince would bring the Crown Prince out of his shell and into the play, and in turn the Crown Prince would help calm the Twin Prince.

Even so, the twins would happily spend time apart and with other people, and the King and Queen made sure to avoid allowing them to develop some form of codependency, but at the end of the day it was clear they find the other the most important person in the world.

Live was _good._

And then tragedy struck.

During the celebration of the twins' fourth birthday, the Twin Prince was kidnapped and disappeared.

He'd needed to go to the bathroom and had happily wandered off hand-in-hand with his nursemaid. Time passed without their return and soon the Crown Prince grew agitated, drawing attention to the fact that his brother had not returned.

The royal spies had swiftly and quietly been sent out, and the royal guards were notified and on high alert for any suspicious behaviour.

The news the spies returned with, were not good.

The nursemaid had been found on the floor of the bathroom under the compulsion of a heavy subjugation spell, her eyes unseeing and breathing weak, The bruised and broken skin of her knuckles and bloodied and broken nails coupled with the disarrayed state of the bathroom spoke of his fiercely she'd fought the attackers,

The the heaviness of the arcane spell of compulsion had damaged her memory, and she couldn't recall any of the events of the last few hours, not even leaving with the Twin Prince in the first place.

The King and Queen searched for the son asked for help from scryers and even the neighbouring kingdoms, but to no avail.

The Twin Prince was lost.


	2. Chapter 1

Nero was very young when he realised that someone in his life was missing. There was a space in his family, in his life, that should be filled but wasn't.

He didn't quite understand it, but he saw it in his father's movements, his his grandparents' quiet grief, and in his father's occasional bouts of migraines that left him wiped out and forced to rest in a dark room with soothing tonics and spells to help try and mitigate the agony.

"His soul is reaching out for its other half, that it's failing and coming back empty is what causes the headaches," grandfather told grandmother once when he thought Nero couldn't hear, but Nero was always very good at making sure he heard things people tried to keep from him. He hates secrets.

 _That_ was the first time Nero ever heard a direct mention of who was missing. His family didn't tell him properly until he was six years old and had finally worked the courage up to ask why he only had a father instead of a father and mother.

He knew that Kyrie, a friend of his from his arcane classes, didn't have any parents at all because they had died so she and her older brother lived with their aunts… But no one had ever talked about Nero's mother dying.

He knew that he'd have to have come from _somewhere,_ because at six Nero was old enough to know that babies grow inside of some people, but also that he didn't grow inside his father and his father couldn't have given birth to him—his grandmother said so.

It's once he's finally learned to read well enough to pay attention to the newspapers that he finds out the truth, that his father's twin—not the person Nero grew inside but the person who should be there to be Nero's other parent—is missing, was kidnapped. And once he takes that information to his family, they tell him.

The Twin Prince, his name still secret because he's never had his Unveiling, was kidnapped and taken as a child, younger than Nero is; Nero's other parent, his mother, was taken from him long before he was ever born. His father's other half was stolen away.

Nero has nightmares about it, dreams filled of being taken from his family, disappearing to where no one knows him and being all alone. They make his tummy hurt and he starts jumping at shadows. The people who took his mother, what if they want to take him too? His family soothes his fears as well as they can, and slowly the nightmares go away. His father gives him a large tattoo on his arm. It looks weird and makes most of his classmates shy away from him, but Kyrie stays.

Only Kyrie stays.

As he grows older he begins to understand _why_ his father gave him the brightly glowing tattoo on the inside of his forearm. He'd hated it for years, it had hurt so much when inscribed in his skin and everyone always looked at it weirdly, but once he was old enough to properly study the arcane, once he got beyond the basics, he realised that it was a spell. A spell that both sensed the presence of the arcane—and would then start glowing—but also functioned as a homing spell for scrying. If someone ever tries to take him, like they did the Twin Prince, even the weakest of scryers would be able to find him using it.

It's comforting to know that his father, damaged and emotionally stunted as he is due to his twin's loss, still manages to care enough to take the time to create such a spell for him.

It makes him feel safe.

It makes him want to give his father something in return.

He puts more effort into his studying, especially scrying. He knows that his family probably have already tried to find Him with scrying, but perhaps Nero will be different. After all, he shares mother's blood and he's of the royal family, his arcane abilities are strong. Perhaps he can do what no one else have been able to!

Maybe he can repair his broken family by finding the missing piece, the _stolen_ piece.

Sparring with father is fun and awe inspiring at the same time. Father is so fast, so strong… beyond what can almost be comprehended. Grandfather said that he'd been uncommonly strong for their line, but that father, and thus mother too, surpasses him.

It makes for an almost impossible bar to reach, but Nero doesn't really worry. He knows he may never be as strong as his father, but he also knows that that's okay.

Strength isn't everything.

Strength didn't keep mother safe.

It's why Nero works hard to understand the politics and allies of his kingdom, why he works to make good terms with the staff of the castle. The more eyes that he has in his castle, the more people that are on his side out of real loyalty rather than "well, he's part of the royal family", the better. The safer he and his family will be. He does what his father seemingly doesn't have the emotional capability to do.

So no, pure strength isn't everything.

But it did help grandfather end the Long War.

So Nero trains, both in fighting and in magic, and uses much of his free time to study in-depth about scrying.

He may not have a talent for it like Kyrie—though she lacks the sheer arcane strength Nero and his family has—but he swears that one day he will find his father's other half, the man who is the Twin Prince And Rightful Queen, the man who should have been here as Nero's other parent, should have helped his father shoulder parenthood and ultimately also ruling a kingdom.

The last member of their family.

Grandmother and Grandfather retire form the throne, and Crown Prince Vergil is crowned King Vergil when Nero is fifteen years old. Father may only be thirty-five, but Nero knows that it's to help him get used to the role with grandfather and grandmother can still be there to support him.

He still hasn't been able to effectively use his scrying research yet, but he refuses to give up. Every time his father comes down with a crippling migraine, it renews Nero's fire, his drive.

Once he reaches sixteen years of age, his father takes him monster hunting for the first time. The thick forests around Escana are filled with mindless beasts, too dangerous for the average person to come anywhere near. While they're usually fine just left alone, some years their population swell and they start leaving the deep forests for the outskirts, coming into contact with the citizens of Escana. At this point, the hunters—all capable of using offensive magic—step in to thin the herds.

Nero finds that he's good at it. Very good at it, in fact.

His father's eyes shine with pride, and the grip on Nero's shoulder coupled with the slight upturn of his father's lips makes it worth all his aching muscles and exhausted magic reserves.

And then Nero imagines another man, identical in looks but with a different feel, standing there next to father, smiling and proud, and the triumph sours.

Sometimes Nero wishes his mother had died. At least then everyone could grieve and move on instead of constantly longing for someone who isn't there.

Nevertheless…

Nero _will_ find him.

He grows older, he continues to work hard. He and Kyrie have a theory that they may be able to use Nero's tattoo and his father's blood together with something mother owned before he was taken and through that maybe be able to create a strong enough location scrying spell that they will be able to find him. Even if he's dead.

Nero has his Unveiling, and finally, _finally,_ Kyrie can call him by his name, his True Name.

They try.

They fail.

Kyrie looks crestfallen when the spell comes up empty, when the scrying crystal doesn't move from the palm of her hand. She'd been so certain it would work, Nero knows. She'd so dearly wanted to help him.

"It's okay, Kyrie. It's not the end. I'll ask my father for the spell for my arm to see if maybe we got something about it wrong. And maybe we need them here, dad, grandma, and grandpa. Maybe we need to incorporate memories of my mother into the spell." He pauses. Wait. "And maybe we can use the fact that he's my dad's twin. It's not over, not yet."

Kyrie looks at him for a long time before she nods, determined.

"Okay, Nero."

It takes them several more months months, Nero is creeping closer to his nineteenth birthday, but they finally have the final form of the scrying spell.

It's a complicated mess of a ritual spell including a very large arcane circle with numerous power symbols, using Nero's entire family as a power source, using the Twin Prince's birth necklace—its twin nestled around Vergil's neck—as well as Vergil's blood smeared across Nero's tattoo.

They lay out the largest and most detailed map of the known world across the floor, beside the arcane circle, and then Kyrie holds out the scrying crystal to Nero, who takes it with a shaking hand.

This is it.

If this fails…

It won't. This is a culmination of years of studies and research and compiling the work of scrying masters dating back centuries. It will work.

Nero starts the spell, whispers the words as the arcane circle starts glowing.

Soon his tattoo and the crystal in his hand start glowing too, and the crystal moves.

It leaves his hand, lands on the map, and slides across it.

Nero focuses on the spell, doesn't look on the map at all.

Before he knows it, it's over.

He feels shaky and wrung out. He sags to the floor, but his father catches him and holds him close.

"Well done," he whispers, voice soft and low. Nero leans into his father, soaks in his pride and in the fact that it worked. Somehow, somehow it worked.

"Oh my," grandmother whispers, "That's a problem."

Nero's stomach drops.

"What's wrong?" he croaks. Did the spell fail after all? Did the crystal leave the map entirely?

"According to your spell, _He's_ in the capital of the Kingdom of Arhemia."

Oh.

#

Nero sits on the couch in his father's private study, nursing a cup of hot tea as he watches his father pace back and forth, rage and frustration coming off him in waves.

"Of all the places!"

Nero doesn't think he's seen him this angry before. He's usually much even tempered, cool headed and his anger tends to be of the icy variety. It's strange, but at the same time understandable.

"Of course he's hidden in another kingdom! Where I can't go! Where I can't send the royal spies to investigate! I can't exactly contact Arkham and ask him for permission to search through his entire capital for my lost twin brother! It would be seen as an extreme insult at best and a declaration of war at worst!"

The lack of title in front of King-Consort Arkham's name is… interesting and telling.

Nero bites his lip and huddles in on himself. If he'd known that finding out the general area of where his mother is would cause his father this much pain… Well, no, he would still have done it. There's nothing that could make him not do it.

He wants Him returned to them, and if his father has to rage due to helplessness for a while before that, then that's just a sacrifice that will have to be made.

"We'll figure something out, Vergil," grandmother says gently, stopping father's pacing with a gentle hand on his arm, "At least now we have a place to start. We know more than just the fact that He's alive, we know where He is too."

Father sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed and breathing deep and slow.

Nero watches for a few moments before he turns his attention to his grandfather who's staring out the window, unseeing. Nero can't even begin to guess what he's thinking.

They'll figure something out. They will.


	3. Chapter 2

"Kiddo, Auntie Sparda wants you to come to the Open Meeting Hall."

Nero winces. He's never been good at dealing with the public, but he also knows that it needs to be done. That the castle and royal family opens up once per week for petitions and talks and concerns for the average citizen is one of the reason the royal family of Escana has such high standing with their people. They've spent centuries building trust and loyalty that goes both ways.

The people of Escana are loyal to the royal family because the royal family is loyal to the people and listens to their voices.

He looks up from his book to find his first cousin Trish leaning against the door frame. She smiled at him and came into the room.

He's always found it slightly odd to look at her, because from what he's seen from photos, she looks more or less exactly as grandmother did in her youth. Apparently those genes came through strong.

Being related on his mother's side, rather than father's, she's never this familiar in public, but when there's no one else around, she's just another part of the family. Even if she's also head of the royal spies.

"Did he say why?" Nero places a bookmark into it and closes the book.

"Vergil is… Down with a migraine, again. Uncle Eva's with him, so you and auntie get the honour of presiding over this week's public hearings."

Still, it's unusual for Nero to be helping with it. Usually father deals with it with the help of grandfather or grandmother, and if he's indisposed due to a migraine, it's usually grandfather and grandmother who do it.

But if grandmother is staying with father… then the migraine must be very strong this time.

Nero winces again. They have to do something. They have to find a solution.

Knowing that mother is in Arhemia but without being able to go there to find him is…

"Alright, I'm coming, Trish."

Nero gets to his feet and follows his cousin out the door. She'd been his parents' playmate when they were young, but after mother was taken, father started pulling away. Trish said they only remained friends and kept company because they were related and Nero's grandparents literally refused to let Vergil withdraw entirely.

Apparently, father's mental state could have been much worse than it is. Though Nero is not so naive as to think that his father is healthy. But he tries, and that matters. That matters a lot.

The Grand Hall is full of noise when Nero arrives. There aren't too many people there, for not everyone choose to go for a direct face-to-face meeting, a lot of citizens simply choose to send detailed scrolls or inscribed information crystals instead.

As Nero takes his place next to his grandfather, a woman in the queue catches his eyes.

There's something about her presence that is… special.

It's not something arcane, but even so, looking at her causes an itching feeling in the back of Nero's head.

He feels as if they're heading towards something at a breakneck speed and he needs to be prepared.

It turns out that he's right; she changes everything.

#

When it's her turn, the woman steps forward with a solemn, bordering on grim, facial expression.

She bows deeply, and when she looks up again, Nero realises that her eyes are mismatched. One is blue and the other a reddish brown. Usually, that kind of unusual colouring is a sign of arcane abilities, but he can't sense anything like that about her, and his tattoo isn't reacting either.

He almost frowns, but forces his facial expression to smooth out. It's one of the things he dislikes the most about being royalty, having to keep a neutral face and not showing his displeasure too easily.

He gets bored easily, but he's not allowed to show it. Kyrie used to poke him about it a lot in school.

"My name... is Lady," the woman says with such gravitas her voice rings in the room. There's a subtle power behind it, as always when a True Name is spoken with conviction.

It certainly draws Nero's attention, and he sees his grandfather lean forward in his seat, clearly intrigued.

"What I must say is of a very sensitive nature, as such I must request a private audience with the King, the King-father, or the King-mother." She stands ramrod straight, a bag slung across her back. It's been checked, so it likely only contains non-magical scrolls and information-crystals.

Grandfather leans back in his chair again, stroking his chin.

"You say it's sensitive. Is it important?"

Nero swallows, he's not sure he'll ever be able to project that kind of calm and power. Frankly, when his grandfather or father does it, it makes him a bit nervous, but the woman, Lady, doesn't so much as blink.

"More so than you can even imagine."

Nero's heart starts hammering in his chest, his pulse jumping in this throat. He's not sure what the woman wants, what information she has, but this cannot be a joke, And if it were an attempt on the royal family, then it's a clumsy one, and one doomed to fail.

"You will have to wait until after the rest of our dear citizens have had their turn at speaking," grandfather says at last.

Lady inclines his head, "Of course, Your Highness."

She steps back and leaves the speaker box, heading for the seat she vacated to take her turn in the first place.

The Open Meeting goes slower than usual, and Nero finds himself glancing at Lady often, as if his eyes are drawn to her. Something in the way she spoke, something about what she said, makes the back of his head itch. He cannot put his finger on it, but it's important. Critical, even.

When he isn't looking at Lady, he's looking at his grandfather, but his expression reveals nothing of his thoughts. He merely looks attentive to the current speaker, nodding along and stroking his chin in thought.

Nero really doesn't have the temperament of royalty… Perhaps one day he will.

#

Lady is led through the castle to the private meeting hall, undergoing several searches and arcane scrying to ensure that she's not carrying anything dangerous or anything that can cause harm to the royal family or the castle itself.

She seems entirely unbothered by it, her face remaining in its grim stoic expression the entire time.

Finally they arrive at the private meeting hall, and Sparda waves Lady inside. After they’ve all entered, Sparda closes the door behind them and activates the wards.

Lady places her bag on the table carefully before she turns to them. She pauses and draws a deep breath, steeling herself.

"As I said, my Name is Lady. But after my birth I was Named Crown Princess Mary of Arhemia."

Nero’s mouth drops open and he stares at her.

What?

T-that's… what?!

"The same Crown Princess Mary who went missing some twenty years ago?" Grandfather’s eyebrows are raised towards his hairline and Nero is treated to the rare sight of his grandfather being surprised.

"Yes," Lady—Crown Princess Mary—says with a small nod, "Though I did not go missing, I escaped a threat to my life, and it is not yet safe for me to return. I hate that I had to leave my people behind, but I could not stay."

If Nero didn’t know that the meeting room wards would give warning if lies were spoken, he’d think it all a fabrication. Though it is possible that Lady believes it, even though it’s not true.

Sparda's eyes narrow and he strokes his chin.

"What was the threat to your life?"

"Arkham."

What?!

Nero feels faint. This is too much for him, he needs to sit down. What the hell.

He pulls out a chair and slumps into it, head spinning with information. Why is she even telling them this? There’s nothing Escana can do about plots within the royal family of Arhemia, not without the two countries coming to blows, and there's no reason for Escana to put itself in that kind of position.

"Important information for sure, but I don’t see where Escana comes into the picture."

Lady shakes her head. "This is not the information I came to share with you, I am merely…" she trails off and sighs, shaking her head, "Perhaps you’d rather wait with finding out how I know until after I’ve told you the information." She crosses her arms over her chest and nods towards them. "Thirty-five years ago, a year after my mother’s death, Acting Regent Arkham conspired with a priest in Escana and enacted the kidnapping of the Twin Prince of Escana."

Nero stops breathing.

The silence that descends on the room feels oppressive, but Nero cannot hope to break it.

King-consort Arkham of Arhemia kidnapped…?

That would explain why Nero and Kyrie’s spell found the Twin Prince in the capital of Arhemia.

But why? Why the fuck would he…?

Sparda draws in a sharp breath and lets it out slowly. Nero knows it’s an attempt at calming himself, but he can he the tremors in it. Grandfather is enraged.

"Why?" Grandfather’s voice is tight and Nero can see a tick in his jaw and how he seems to have to force it to unclench to say the words at all.

Nero… Nero feels numb.

He would have expected to feel the same burning rage as his grandfather, but everything is just frozen. He stares at Lady and tries to wrap his mind around what she’s saying. What her words mean.

"Arkham is obsessed with power, both social and arcane." She closes her eyes, her face pained. "He murdered my mother to gain arcane power. The royal line of Arhemia doesn’t have arcane strength the way that of Escana does, not anymore, but our blood still has powerful arcane properties."

She turns away from them then, her shoulders hunching.

"But even that wasn’t enough for him. So he found a ritual, a truly disgusting and evil ritual, where you drain a twin with arcane power of their power, killing them, and creating a link between your power and their blood so you can drain their still living twin of their power too once you're in their vicinity. If done well enough, you can drain the entire family tree of the twins, though again, it requires close proximity."

No…

_ No… _

"No!" Nero shouts the word before he can stop himself. "He isn’t dead! He can’t be! Father would know!"

This can’t be the end. He can’t be dead. They were supposed to become whole again.

Father would know.

"The ritual was never performed." Lady’s voice is soft.

Nero’s breathing is shallow with panic and anger, the numbness finally gone. And then grandfather’s large hands fall on his shoulders, squeezing gently. A steadying presence.

"Why wasn’t it completed?" grandfather says, voice calmer and more relaxed.

"From what I could find… something went wrong. The people who performed the kidnapping acknowledged that they had the Twin Prince and were heading to Arhemia, but after that all communication from their side stopped. No matter the demands or cajoling from Arkham, there were no more replies." Lady shrugs, and finally turns back to face them. She looks uncomfortable, but determined.

"All the information I’ve managed to gather is in these crystals and scrolls. Magically created copies, verifiable, of the original documents and orders, and of Arkham’s communication crystal."

Silence descends over the room again, and Nero finds himself at loss for words. His emotions are still going haywire and he doesn't know what he's feeling, but at the same time he don't know what to say or do. He looks helplessly at his grandfather who looks at the many documents and informations crystals.

"We'll have to verify it before we can do… Anything. In the meantime, I'd like for you to remain in the castle," Sparda finally says after a long pause.

"Of course," Lady says with a nod.

"Trish, please take care of our guest for me," he says, and in the blink of an eye, Trish appears out of what was previously an empty corner of the room.

"Yes, my lord," she says with a bow. She turns to Lady and says, "Follow me please," before she heads towards the exit on the opposite end of the room, likely to take Lady to one of the guest rooms for high ranking and very important guests. Those rooms both have the most security and are the hardest to escape from, so it's a win-win situation in this case.


	4. Chapter 3

Vergil feels wrung out and exhausted. His head is pounding harshly, zapping his strength and leaving him weak and and nearly helpless.

The coolness of the wet cloth his mother lays gently across his eyes is barely any relief at all, even with the soothing tonics she's had him drink.

He's never had a migraine attack quite so bad before, the sensation quite like his head is being cleaved open and electrocuted at the same time, the pain spreading down his jaw and neck, all the way down to his shoulders.

If he ever finds the person who took his twin from him, who stole away his other half, he will rip them asunder. He will make them feel every bit of agony Vergil has suffered since he was parted from his twin. Every. Small. Bit. Of. It. They are going to regret ever laying a hand on Him.

"I will murder them," he gasps out.

"Shhh, Vergil," his mother whispers, gently stroking his jaw to make him unclench it. "Not now. Try to remain calm, try to relax. These thoughts will not help right now."

As if Vergil can think of anything else.

As if there's anything anything else worth thinking about.

He feels the sudden whisper of magic and knows what's coming.

A soothing sleep spell and a few hours or blessed unconsciousness.

He will wake without the headache, but with the loss of his brother once again a freshly opened wound in his mind.

#

When Vergil regains consciousness the room is still dark, but he can see the shape of his mother in a nearby armchair. The hands move rhythmically, with utter surety, and Vergil has no doubt that she's doing some arcane stitching—it's usually what she does in times like this.

He rolls to his side, his head doesn't start swimming, so no vertigo, and prepares to get out of bed.

"Oh, you're awake. How are you feeling?" Eva says as she puts away her embroidery.

Vergil remains quiet for a moment, assessing his current state. Considering how indisposed he was by the migraine, he's not feeling all too terrible.

"... Fine," he murmurs, and finally sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Mmm, good." It doesn't sound like mother believes him, but Vergil is unconcerned about it.

"Has father or Nero said anything about how the open meeting went?" As much as Vergil would rather think of something else right now, he has his duty. How could he ever look his twin in the eye if he'd failed in their duty, failed their people?

"Sparda didn't say much, but something important must have happened, because he and Nero have been locked in the royal study ever since it ended." She pauses briefly. "And Trish informed me that we have a guest in one of the ambassador's quarters. She also said she couldn't elaborate on it right now, and that you and I would need to speak with Sparda and Nero about it... In private."

Vergil raises an eyebrow at that. How interesting.

"That's unusual."

Eva snorts. "To put it mildly. This guest must have done something very special to be housed in one of the ambassador's quarters."

Interest flares in Vergil's mind. He's _curious._ He'd almost forgotten the feeling.

"I don't see why we should wait any longer, I wish to speak to father and Nero immediately. This might be something that needs my input." He gets to his feet. Still no vertigo. Good.

"Shall we?" He holds his elbow out for his mother to take, which she does with a smile and a shake of her head.

Before he can open the door, however, she hands him a face veil.

"Put this on, shield your eyes from the light as much as possible. You're likely still sensitive to it."

Vergil clenches his jaw. He hates admitting weakness, and he especially hates admitting _lingering_ weakness, but his mother is right. No point in causing another attack when it could have been easily avoided.

He puts it on with distaste, the dark but sheer fabric obscuring the world and when the door opens, making it appear a far more soothing shade than it is.

It's almost annoying how often his mother is right. But perhaps that's why his father fell for her in the first place.

#

The door to the royal study slides open to reveal Nero on the couch, arms wrapped around his knees staring blankly into space, and Sparda at the desk, face buried in his hands.

Vergil's mouth thins and his eyebrows knit together as he quickly closes the door.

"What's happened?"

Whatever it is, it's clearly serious.

Sparda lets out a small chuckle that borders on panicked and Nero buries his face in his knees.

Vergil shares a brief worried clance with his mother, but before he can say anything else, his father finally speaks up.

"The real heir to Arhemia, the supposedly missing Crown Princess Mary, walked into the public hearing and requested a private audience."

Vergil's eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline.

What?

"But that's..." Eva is lost for words as she stares between her husband and her grandson.

Vergil's frown deepens. If they have the missing heir to Arhemia's throne in the castle and haven't contacted Arhemia about it, it could easily be seen as a diplomatic faux pas at best and an outright insult at worst. What the hell is going on?

"What was she doing here? Have you sent a message to Arkham?" As always, unless when speaking to the man directly, Vergil omits Arkham's title. He holds little respect for the man, though he's never been able to articulate why. It's as if some part of him absolutely hates him for no real reason.

"We haven't," Nero mumbles. "She says she didn't go missing, she went into hiding to avoid being murdered by her own father."

Vergil blinks. Nero has never had much tact or delicacy, but that's... Well.

"Oh... oh my..." Eva draws closer to Vergil's side.

"That's a... heavy accusation. But what does that have to do with us?" While Vergil understands that it would certainly be useful for Crown Princess Mary to make allies out of Escana, but he can't see what they would stand to gain from it, nor why she came to them now—more than twenty years since her disappearance.

"She brought us... copies... verifiable and _accurate_ copies of her father's notes and communications." Sparda shakes his head. "I have tested all of it, and as far as my most advanced spells, they're all real. It all stands up to the most intense scrutiny I'm capable of."

"And?" Vergil feels impatience creep up on him. He has no interest in beating around the bush.

"Arkham murdered his wife, Arhemia's Queen, for power. And then he ordered the kidnapping of your brother to use _Him_ in a ritual to gain further power."

The world stills and Vergil stops breathing.

Arkham ordered his brother's kidnapping? Arkham is the one responsible for the loss of Vergil's twin?

"What ritual?" Eva's voice wavers, and the words strike Vergil like a sword through the chest. He'd been so focused on the fact that Arkham was responsible that he hadn't even managed to take in the why.

"He planned to murder Him!" Nero's angry yell is muffled by his knees. "That asshole was going to murder Him! For power!"

Vergil stops breathing entirely. The rage that sweeps through him is so consuming he clenches his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut, and balls his hands into fists to keep from flying off the handle completely. Arkham was going to _murder_ Vergil's twin brother, his other half, his rightful Queen. As if he had any sort of right to do such a thing. As if he had any right to make a claim of any kind on Vergil's brother.

Unworthy little maggot. Vergil will rend his flesh from his bones piece by peace, will cut him in tiny little pieces, and he'll enjoy every second of it.

"Is He—?" Mother cannot even finish the sentence, and the words sound like they've been punched out of her.

"The ritual was never completed," father says with a shake of his head, "Something went wrong. The kidnappers suddenly stopped all communications and never reached the meeting point. The last messages are merely Arkham demanding to know where they are. Crown Princess Mary has not been able to find any hints regarding what happened."

Eva breathes out a sigh of relief, but Vergil cannot relax. He feels as tense as a drawn bow string. If his twin never reached Arkham's hands... then what happened to him?

"Another interesting fact is that... Well, Princess Mary has a new True Name. She was Named Mary, but when she introduced herself to us she said her Name is Lady, and the words rang with the force of a True Name spoken."

While that is interesting, Vergil doesn't care.

"So what do we do now?" he says, ice cold. "Call a meeting of Kings and demand that Arkham hands himself over lest we declare war?"

Silence descends on the study, thick and heavy. Vergil refuses to break it, not until he has an answer. He may be the King, but he's too out of sorts with the residue of the migraine attack and too compromised due to the news about his twin to be thinking clearly. Advice is what he needs right now.

"Yes." Eva's voice is hard. "If you're certain that the documents are true, then the only option we have is just that. Though we should also reveal the intention to return Arhemia's throne to its rightful owner rather than conquer the land, and introduce... _Lady,_ for who she is. So you will need her cooperation."

"Your mother is right, Vergil. While I wish there was no war ahead of you, while I wish so dearly you would be spared a war, this is too deep a treachery, too deep an insult, to let it go." Sparda is equally hard.

Vergil nods and takes a seat on the couch, next to his son.

He's not the most affectionate of fathers, he's likely not even nearly a good one, but he...

He pulls Nero in close.

 _He_ would have made up for Vergil's deficiencies, would have been warmer. Fire to Vergil's ice. And Nero has suffered for having only one of the parents he should have had.

"We will have our revenge on Arkham. We will instate this Lady on Arhemia's throne." He pauses, just briefly. "And she, in turn, will give us the right to search her kingdom for my other half. We _will_ find Him."

#

She doesn't look anything like Vergil expected her to, but she stands firm under his scrutiny, doesn't back an inch in the face of his gaze. That, at least, he can respect.

"How did you find all of this out?" he says, watching her face closely.

"I started looking. And there are many secrets in Arhemia that I can access due to who I am." She takes a sip of her tea unflinching.

"So why did you start? There's no reason I can see for why you would go look to see if Arkham had any plots against Escana." He wants to know the sequence of events. What she went looking for first, and why she went looking at all. Arkham has not seemed suspicious to anyone else, as far as Vergil knows, since before he married Queen Celine... So what made his own daughter suddenly grow suspicious?

"It... It was a coincidence, really." She looks away and her gaze turns vacant, as if she's suddenly far far away in memory. "I went looking for something else, and stumbled upon some information that made me realise that my mother's death was no accident, but directly caused by Arkham." She frowns, and Vergil can see the muscles of her jaw bunching from how she clenches her teeth, and her hand shakes with how hard she makes a fist.

It seems her hatred for Arkham may be near the levels that Vergil himself feels.

"At that point... my Name rotted. It was Arkham who chose the name Mary, and I could no longer bear it. The knowledge of what he'd done made my very soul reject it, and so I became Nameless."

That... is severe. Very severe indeed. Being without a Name is, from what Vergil's been told, a form of agony that is quite indescribable.

"And yet you now have a Name, do you not?" Vergil's eyes narrows. Did she Name herself? It's possible, though unusual.

"I didn't know what to do. I realised that my fa—that Arkham aimed to kill me too, like he did my mother, but the shock of being Nameless left me disoriented and weak. But..." she pauses then, and shakes her head, laughing bitterly. "I didn't quite start at the beginning."

She shakes her head, and takes a deep breath, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders.

"I was young, I had just turned sixteen, and I felt that my father was coddling me. That I wasn't being taught what I should be, considering how close I was to reaching my majority, at which time I would be crowned and take my rightful place on the throne." She taps a finger against the table, idly and seemingly without even being aware that she's doing it. "So I decided that I needed to find the information for myself. I knew I had never even seen the lower levels of Andelia, despite living there my whole life, so I put on a disguise and slipped out of the castle to experience the capital of my country, the country I would soon rule, for myself."

Vergil raises an eyebrow.

"Impulsive and foolish."

She snorts. "Certainly, but we would not be here now if I hadn't."

Vergil inclines his head, conceding the point.

"Anyway, it was worse than I ever could imagine, the further down I came. Poverty and filth far worse than in my darkest nightmares. I was horrified, how could my father have let the city become such a place?" She shakes her head. "I wasn't thinking clearly, and I kept heading further and further down, despite not knowing my way around, I had almost reached the end of the middle levels, I was almost in the bottom layers, where more or less only criminals reside, when I bumped into _him._ Quite literally actually."

"Him?"

"Red. The man who sent me looking in the first place. The person who we owe all of this knowledge to. Someone who I owe more than I can bear."

"That's a weird name," Nero suddenly says from his place on the couch. He's been surprisingly quiet, so Vergil doesn't even mind that he interrupted.

"That's because it isn't a real name. Red... Didn't know his Name. And he didn't have a legal identity..." she trails off. "I should start at the beginning."

And so she does.


	5. Chapter 4

Mary is horrified by the situation she finds herself in. She cannot believe that Andelia, the city she's lived her entire life in, has these hidden sides to it.

She feels so horrified at seeing the poverty, the hopelessness of the people, and the dirtiness of the streets. She feels so naive, she's trusted her father her entire life as he's told her that Arhemia is a prosperous country with little poverty, and that there certainly isn't a widespread problem in Andelia.

But here she is, in the mid levels of the city, and it's so far spread. She doesn't look where she's going, not really, she just keeps heading deeper, further and further down.

What else has her father been keeping from her? What else does this city hide from her? How much worse will it get?

She turns a corner and runs right into someone, straight into someone quite a bit taller.

"Whoa there, lady, watch where you're going."

She staggers backwards and finds herself looking up into a dirty face. He's young, not much older than her—if he's older at all. He's handsome, or he would be if not for the slight gauntness of his face and the streaks of dirt—she can see the traces on his face of too many days with little food.

_"You_ look where you're going," she snaps, unwilling to admit fault. She knows she wasn't looking, but she figures that admitting weakness in a place like this would be a bad idea.

The guy just snorts.

"Sure, whatever you say." He shrugs his shoulders, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Still though, fancy lady, you shouldn't be this far down. Another level and you'll be right in criminal territory, just asking to get shanked."

She steps back. "Fancy?!" She's dressed down for this. She messed her hair up, she's wearing no make-up, and she's wearing simple clothing. She hardly looks fancy!

"I can tell you've tried to dress down, but your clothes are of good make, definitely from the upper-mid to upper levels. You don't find clothes with fabric that good down here. Messing your hair up is not going to hide much. You're just asking for a mugging."

She frowns, looking at her clothes self-consciously. She did buy them in the upper levels, but... She looks at what the man in front of her is wearing, and she can immediately see what he means. Her own clothes are definitely more finely woven, and though they're simple, they're not... they're not cheap.

She frowns and bites her lip.

"I can take care of myself." She's been trained for battle, she'll be Queen someday. Of course she can take care of herself!

"I'm sure you can, lady, but I'm still gonna suggest you head up a few levels anyway. There's nothing to see down there. Not unless you want to take up prostitution," the guy says crassly. Mary finds herself gaping at him.

"How _dare_ you?!" She only barely refrains from demanding if he has any idea who she is. She doesn't want to draw attention to her identity, but to have someone suggest she would—!

"What? It's a perfectly common profession this far down. In fact, it's one of the few that aren't illegal. Though I suppose your reaction to it betrays your... good upbringing, shall we say?" He crosses his arms over his chest and that awful smug grin spreads on his face again. "So what's this then? Little miss sheltered out to see the world? Slumming it for a day?"

Mary feels a hot blush creep up on her cheeks. It's too close to the truth, so close that she chokes on any words she might have otherwise said.

"Hmph," she huffs and turns away. She should get away from this guy as quickly as possible... She's seen enough. She needs to head to the royal library and see if she can suss out what's caused such a horrific divide in the city... and why her father has kept it from her. If she's to rule once she reaches her majority...

"Aw come on, don't be like that! How about this, I'll take you to a good bar to make up for offending your delicate sensibilities."

Before Mary can even stop herself, she's turned around and punched the guy straight in the face. It's a terrible place to hit someone, she knows that, but she wanted him to... to...

The guy barely flinches from the blow, and hitting his nose is almost like hitting a solid brick wall. If the thought wasn't so ridiculous, Mary would bet that her knuckles hurt far more than his nose.

"Heh, guess I deserved that." He shrugs his shoulders, unconcerned. "So who are you anyway?"

"Like I'd tell you that! It's none of your business." And it really isn't. How presumptuous of him to demand anything of her.

"Oh come on, it's not that serious." He throws his arms out to the sides in a shrug, and briefly she sees the glint of guns on his belt. She freezes. If he goes after her with those, she won't be able to protect herself, she only brought knives with her... But the guy still seems entirely unconcerned and laid back.

"Well, if you don't wanna say, then whatever. Now come on, we really shouldn't be this far down." With that, he turns on his heels and walks away from her.

Mary has the briefest of moments of indecision before she hurries after the mysterious guy. She doesn't know who he is, but he's seemed... like a good sort, so far.

Though in the back of her head she cannot help but wonder if he's leading her into a trap of some kind.

She follows him up several layers, up towards the lower-mid levels instead. It's lighter here, more sources of light and despite all the dirt, most things are at least kept in somewhat good shape. Still, there's a knot in her gut.

"So, again, what should I call you anyway?" he suddenly asks, still walking and without turning around.

She considers lying, considers not answering again, but ultimately she relents.

"Mary." It's a common enough name. If she hadn't worn contacts to hide her mismatched eyes it might have been enough to tip someone off on her true identity, but on its own it should be safe.

"Call me Red."

Mary's lips thin and she balls her hands up in fists.

"You're not even going to introduce yourself properly?!" Even after the shit she got from him about it?

"Aw come on, Mary, it's not like that!" He stops suddenly, turning around with what appears to be an attempt at a charming face, but she's too annoyed to find it anything close to that.

"Oh it isn't?" She's of half a mind to just turn around and keep heading down the layers of the city. Why should she trust anything this guy says?

The smile drops off his face and he sighs, shoulders slumping slightly.

"It's not something I should be talking about out in the open," he says, his voice low and hushed, "But I promise I'll explain at the bar."

She stares him down and weighs her options.

"Fine."

She'll be on her guard just in case. Just in case.

#

The bar is fairly cosy, for all that it's not especially high class. But the man behind the bar had greeted "Red" with a cheerful call of his moniker and then waved him over to the corner. Mary followed Red into the small booth and took a seat opposite to him.

She wonders why she's even here, why she even wants to know why he didn't give her a real name... She doesn't know him, she literally just met him, and yet.

And yet.

There is something about Red that's almost magnetic. Like there's more to him than meets the eye. She wonders, idly and inanely, if he has some small bit of strength in the arcane that draws people to him. It would certainly explain why she's here...

Then again, he clearly knows these streets better than she does. Perhaps it would be good for her to get his perspective on the city before she does anything rash. Perhaps things aren't as bad as they seem to her. After all, what looks simple to her is still... Still high class.

"Well then, _Red,_ why don't you start explaining?" She puts extra stress on the fake name, just to needle him a bit. Just to see how he reacts.

"Well..." he says slowly, "I actually don't have a known legal identity."

Mary freezes in her seat. What?

"That's impossible. Ridiculous! How can you not have a legal identity?" You can't just... exist as a person if you don't have an identity. Everyone has identities. Don't they?

"Well, I technically have one, I guess, I just don't know what it is." He shrugs, and for the first time a frown mars his face. "My parents died in a carriage accident when I was a child and I suffered memory loss. Before the police even got there, someone ransacked our carriage so there were no forms of identification to be found anywhere."

"But... Then... Didn't they put a search out?" The authorities can't just have left it at that, could they? Arhemia's social systems cannot be that bad, surely?

"They did, but they didn't find anyone. No one came forward." He shrugs. "But the way the system is set up, I couldn't be adopted because the law says in the absence of parents, other relatives must give their permission for the adoption. So since my parents were dead and they couldn't find any other relatives, I was unadoptable. I spent my childhood with a very nice woman who gave me a... name, but it isn't my Name, you know?" He frowns, looks uncomfortable.

"It's hard to explain, but I know it's not my name, I can feel that it's not my name. Every time she called me that, part of me would recoil. She always apologised for it, but we both knew there was nothing she could do. She had to call me something, and we didn't know my real name." He shrugs again.

Mary takes a long breath.

"So how did you get guns? You need an identity to have them, unless you stole them..." She glares at him. It's very likely that he's a criminal.

"They were a gift, from a friend of the woman who cared for me. After she died, I ended up in an orphanage for a few years until I reached my majority last year. That's when I got the guns, since now I'd need to somehow fend for myself." He stares at the table for a while. "I do some monster hunting and uh... I've started dabbling in the underground fighting rings. It's just about the only jobs I can get. Except prostitution or really illegal ones."

Mary find herself... She's not actually sure what she's feeling.

"So you're just... left to fend for yourself? No name? No identity? No home?" She realises suddenly that he cannot have a home either, because you legally cannot rent without an identity, because you need an account with the bank, and for that you need an identity. How... how does he live? Did Arhemia just... kick him out? Left him to possibly starve or freeze to death on the streets because his parents died when he was a child and he's turned eighteen?

"Pretty much. I'm not the only one either. There's quite a few ways someone can end up without an identity, and thus forced to live the rest of their lives like this. Moving from temporary home to temporary home, taking any kind of work they can get. It sucks, but unless I find some relatives by some miracle, I'm never gonna know what my Name is."

It's a horrifying thought and it makes Mary's stomach hurt.

Time passes slowly, but she finds herself enjoying Red's company, even if his swagger is slightly annoying.

Still, she has made up her mind. She's going to research this deeper. If there's anything she's gained form this trip, it's opened eyes.

Something is rotten in Arhemia, and she will find the core of it.

#

Mary hurries through the streets.

Down down down.

She needs to get away from the upper levels, from the castle, from him.

Mary—the name chafes, aches and shreds her soul, like a piece of her has rotted and needs to be pulled off lest it spreads to the rest of her—doesn't know what to do.

She has no way of finding Red, but she wants to find him.

He opened her eyes. He made her look properly, and now... And now she doesn't know what to do.

Blinded by tears, she continues on her mad dash downwards, heading towards the bar Red took her to, hoping against hope that he'll be there.

She needs a friendly face right now, but one that does not know who she is, one she can speak to freely without worries of them spreading the information.

She turns a corner, and runs straight into a hard chest.

"Woah there, Mary! Still haven't learned to look where you're going, I see!"

Strong hands catch her by the elbows and help her regain her balance—she would have fallen to the ground otherwise.

"Red," she croaks, voice breaking on even that short word.

"Holy shit, are you okay, Mary?"

The name is like a knife to the ear.

"Don't call me that! Don't... Not that." She clutches at his chest, even as she hates herself for not being stronger, for not keeping a straight face and a more dignified appearance.

"Shit, what?" Red sounds hopelessly lost. "Okay, okay." He starts making hushing noises, leading her away from the middle of the street. "Come on, let's get you somewhere private, okay?"

She stumbles along, leaning heavily on Red.

She doesn't understand how she can trust him so much when they've only met once before. But there is something inside her that tells her that he's the only one who can help her now, he's the only one she can turn to.

And in the end, she trusts her instincts.

He takes her to a secluded spot inside an abandoned building, shielded from the elements but not insulated and thus still exposed to the temperature outside.

"Okay, shit. I knew I needed to be out there today for some reason, I could feel it, but I didn't expect it to be you." He makes sure she takes a seat before he sits down next to her. "Hell, I didn't expect to ever see you again. I assumed you'd go back to your life in the upper levels and forget about our meeting entirely."

She shakes her head, desperate and upset, before she wipes at her tears with her sleeve.

"No, I... I started... I started looking into Arhemian law. And... a lot of my father's notes." She shudders. "I came down here in the first place because I thought he was shielding me from something, hiding something... and I was right. So I broke into his study..."

She draws a deep shuddering breath.

"He murdered my mother." She almost chokes on the words, they're so awful. She doesn't want it to be true, but she knows it is. "He murdered my mother and my Name has _rotted._ I cannot and will not ever be Mary again."

Red is silent for a long time, and she finds herself counting her breaths, just to have something to occupy her thoughts with.

"Shit. That's..." He stumbles over his words, clearly not sure what he should say. "Okay. So."

She looks at him, blinking away her tears, rubbing at her face with her shirt. He looks completely out of his depth, his usual confident swagger completely thrown off, leaving an awkward and well meaning mess of a man behind. It almost makes her laugh.

"What do you want me to call you instead?"

God. She hadn't even thought that far. She doesn't have a Name anymore. There's nothing anyone can call her that won't hurt.

"I don't know. I don't _care._ Just _anything_ but Mary." She hugs herself and draws deep breaths to slowly get her shuddering breaths under control.

She doesn't have a Name anymore. Her father murdered her mother. Her father has been deliberately causing bad things to happen in the kingdom.

Her father wants to kill _her_ too.

"Well, it's nice to meet you... _Lady."_ He reaches out a hand, ready for a handshake, and there's Power in his words.

Mary... No, _Lady,_ feels it in her very bones.

Red has Power. Incredibly strong arcane power.

Strong enough to Name her entirely without ritual, incantation, or anything that's usually used during a Naming. All he has is his own innate strength, and yet he Names her.

"It's nice to meet you, Red," she whispers, and takes his hand. She clasps it, unable to express just how grateful she is. As their hands touch, she feels Red's magic wash over her, and her rotted Name falls away. Mary disappears, leaving only Lady behind.

She cannot properly articulate the importance, or the gravity, of the gift he's given her.

But it also makes her more sad and angry about the state of Arhemia. Because a man like Red, someone with so much innate strength and talent, should be in the magic school taking classes and becoming stronger, reaching his full potential. But instead he's stuck on the streets, living a life barely worthy of a rat, simply because his parents died when he was a child.

It's unconscionable, and Lady knows she needs to do something about it.

She needs to fix it somehow.

But how? She's powerless... She won't be crowned for months upon months yet, and she's now certain that her fa—that Arkham will make sure she meets her end in an "unfortunate accident" before she can ever take the throne.

"I cannot go home. Not... not until I find some way to kill my father."

Red blinks in surprise and stares at her.

"Oh wow. Revenge, huh?"

She shakes her head briefly.

"Not just revenge, self-defense. He murdered my mother, and I know he's planning to kill me too." She shrugs. "Neither of us have arcane abilities, but we're of a bloodline that used to have it, so our blood has arcane properties. He'll kill me to make sure I won't get my inheritance when I reach my majority, and to use my blood to further his own arcane strength."

"Well, that's a shitty family right there. Not exactly father of the year, huh."

"No, he isn't. And unless I hide... I will never stop him."

Red looks at her, face grave, for a long time before he slowly nods.

"Guess you have a lot of shit to take care of. Do you want my help?"

For the briefest of moments, Lady considers it, considers taking Red up on her offer... But she knows she can't. What she has to do... He can't ever know who she was. Who she was born.

"No." She shakes her head. "But thank you for offering, even though you don't know me at all." She smiles at him then.

The self-assured and cocky grin spreads on his face again.

"What can I say, I'm just a good guy like that." He shrugs his shoulders.

For all that he says it as a joke, Lady knows that it's actually true. After all, most people wouldn't Name someone they don't know. Red doesn't seem strained, but it must have taken a lot out of him, he must simply be hiding it. Naming someone without a ritual or tools... That's hard.

"And... Red."

He blinks in surprise at the shift of tone.

"Yeah?" He scratches the back of his neck.

"Thank you for my Name." She cannot possibly thank him enough.

"No sweat, Lady." He grins again.

"I have to go," she says and gets to her feet. Red stands up as well. Before she moves away, Lady pulls a coin purse out of her coat and presses it into Red's hands.

"Take this. It's the least I can do in return for your help. As thanks for opening my eyes." She shakes her head ruefully. "You likely saved my life by doing so."

Red stares at the purse before he slowly opens it to look inside.

"Holy shit, Lady, this is a fuckton of money. I can't—!" before he can finish his protests, Lady cuts him off.

"You can. I took it from my father. That money does much more good in your hands than his." She almost laughs. If Red only knew how much money her father is in possession of, how little money what's in the purse is to her. She won't insult him by saying that it isn't much, because she's not stupid enough to think it isn't much for someone who lives on the streets.

"I would give you more if I could, but this is all I could bring at the time and I think any more would rouse suspicion in my father."

She can't show her hand to him. She must make her plans and escape without Arkham ever knowing what she's planning.

"Well... thanks. And good luck." Red looks slightly shell shocked, his swagger gone.

Lady smiles again. "I'm going to need it... But I _will_ succeed, just you wait, Red."

With those words, she leaves.

One day... One day she'll meet him again, and when she does, she'll give him a legal identity. She may not ever be able to teach him his True Name, and he may not take her up on an offer of a new Naming, but she'll at least give him an identity.

It's the least she can do.


	6. Chapter 5

Vergil stalks back an forth in front of the communication crystal.

It's almost time.

He's called for a Council of Kings—misleading though the title is—to demand Arkham's surrender. He has no hope that the bastard actually will surrender himself to Escana and allow a peaceful transition of power to his daughter, but for the sake of keeping peace with the other kingdoms, Vergil still has to try.

In the corner of his eye he sees his parents, his son, and Lady stand together, ready. He knows that Trish is somewhere nearby as well, keeping watch.

He knows he's right. He's double checked Lady's sources, he's compared the arcane signatures of Arkham's seal… He's even had Trish do some sleuthing on her own—risk of war or not—just to make sure he's not about to doom his kingdom to war for no reason.

However, everything added up. And as soon as they found the priest Arkham had colluded with, well, he sang like a canary. Telling them all about the plan, about how he and Arkham were supposed to share the Twin Prince's arcane strength, and about how something went wrong and Arkham claimed that the prince never arrived. The Priest wasn't sure whether or not that was true.

And, of course, then he immediately started blubbering about how he wanted to come clean, how he regretted it ever so much, but how could he when it was treason.

Because he was unsurprisingly not regretful enough to consider the Twin Prince's life and health more important than his own.

If they had been alone in that room when the priest confessed, Vergil would have snapped his neck then and there in a fit of rage. But no, his family was there, so he kept it together by the skin of his teeth. He just barely held on to his temper and sanity.

He knows his mental state is deteriorating for every year that passes. He hasn't been healthy since just after Nero was born.

At this rate, unless Vergil finally finds his other half, unless the wounds in their minds and souls are mended, Nero's likely to have to take the throne sooner rather than later—while Vergil descends into frothing madness.

Still, thinking about that now will do him no good, so he rolls his shoulders and straightens his back.

It's time.

#

"Tell me, King Vergil, for what reason have you called this Council?" Queen Lucida, young and untested as she is, is not one to beat around the bush. Lunmark has little in terms of power or resources, but they had a border skirmish with Arhemia within human memory, so Vergil has hopes they'll throw their weight in with Escana regardless of that,

Still.

He watches the other rulers for a brief moment, before his gaze falls on Arkham.

The bastard looks calm and attentive, as if there's nothing wrong in the world at all. Then again, he probably doesn't think there is. He likely has no idea what Lady has done and what Vergil has found out in turn.

But he will, oh he will.

And he will rue the day he ever had the idea that he would take Vergil's brother away from him.

“I have called this meeting to demand that Acting Regent Arkham of Arhemia surrenders himself to Escana to face justice for his crimes against the Kingdom and the royal family.”

The words send shock waves through the other rulers. Vergil watches dispassionately as they flinch, and he takes pleasure in watching the blood drain from Arkham’s face. It is no less than what he deserves.

“Excuse me?” Arkham sounds properly offended. If Vergil wasn’t so certain that the proof he had wasn’t falsified, if he wasn’t sure sure that Arkham was guilty, he might actually have fallen for it. What an actor.

Vergil doesn’t deign to respond to the question with anything more than a raised eyebrow. He will not humour Arkham’s attempts at claiming his innocence.

“What, if I may ask, King Vergil, are these crimes you accuse Acting-Regent Arkham of?” Queen Lucida’s eyes are sharp, but not disbelieving. Vergil isn’t surprised to find that she has no trouble believing that Arkham would have committed crimes against another kingdom.

“I would dearly like to know that as well!” Arkham slams an open palm down on the desk in front of him.

Vergil has little patience with his dramatics.

“The plotting, planning, and instigation of the kidnapping of the Twin Prince of Escana, thirty-five years ago.”

Blood drains out of the faces of every single ruler in the meeting, and Arkham takes on a slightly green shade. They all know how seriously a crime Escana considers this kidnapping, and how it’s not just political but a personal as well.

He’s also very aware that they have little trust in Vergil as a person, and most of them likely consider him not just cold, but slightly unhinged. His spies have brought back many news regarding gossip regarding his mental state. He’s certain most of them have expected him to start a new great war ever since he took the throne.

And while this has certainly given him a cause, he has no interest in war. He only wants Arkham to get what he deserves. Vergil only wants to have his brother returned to him.

“Preposterous! I did no such thing! How dare you slander me like this!” Arkham’s face has taken on a slight flush of anger, but the pallor beneath it betrays his fear.

“Do you have… proof, King Vergil?” King Andal of Ifraan says, stroking his long beard.

“Yes. Magically created copies of several of Arkham’s communication stones, copies of arcane spells bearing his mark, as well as the testimony of one of his accomplices.” Vergil keeps his face impassive. He knows that keeping his cool and looking unaffected is more likely to unnerve everyone else far better than any angry outbursts.

“This is just a front! He only wishes to lure you all into a false sense of security before he starts his conquest of the kingdoms of the world!”

Vergil raises his eyebrow again and tilts his head to the side, but he remains quiet. He knows that many of the other rulers fears that exact thing, so he will see if anyone of them dares to voice the thought.

“What is your plan for Arhemia, should Acting-Regent Arkham surrender himself? Will you assimilate Arhemia into Escana?” It’s Queen Baal who has the courage to ask.

“I will return the throne of Arhemia to its rightful ruler,” he says simply, unblinkingly.

He watches confusion spread among the gathered rulers, and even Arkham himself has dropped the act of being offended in favour of it.

"Wait, what? Who are you talking about?" King Andal looks absolutely baffled.

Vergil looks over to where Lady is standing. She catches his eyes and he nods at her.

Come.

She doesn't spare a single second and instead just makes here way to his side. There's a murmur of confusion as she sidles up to him, but she turns her gaze on Arkham immediately:

"Hello, father. It's been a long time since we last saw each other, hasn't it. Something like… twenty years?"

If Arkham was going slightly green before, there's a hint of puce to his complexion now. Vergil takes a lot of pleasure in seeing him realise just how many of his plans failed and just how badly it will cost him.

"Who… You can't be…?" Queen Lalarni stumbles over her words, clearly uncertain whether or not she's seeing things or not.

Twenty years would certainly change a young girl a lot, allowing for a drastically different appearance. But Lady's mismatched eyes are both striking and memorable. Hard to believe to be anything but what they are—proof of her identity.

"I was Named Crown Princess Mary of Arhemia when I was born." Her eyes are hard. "I no longer bear the Name Mary; after I found out that Arkham was the one who murdered my mother, my Name Rotted and I was left Nameless."

Baffled looks off horror are clearly visible in her audience, but Lady continues on unhindered.

"I have since been Named again, through the kindness and skill of someone who stood to gain nothing from such an action."

"You're not Mary! You're not my daughter! She was kidnapped years ago and I have yet to find a single trace of her. How dare you pretend to be her? How dare you besmirch her name?"

Lady's eyes are, if possible, even harder now.

"I went into hiding, so that you couldn't murder me the way you did my mother. But I'm sure you already knew that, didn't you, Arkham?"

Like the edge of a knife, razor sharp and cutting. Lady takes no prisoners and has no interest in playing fair.

"You lie! You are not my daughter!"

Even so, she continues, despite Arkham's theatrics.

"Escana will deposit you off the throne, and I will make right all the things you've destroyed in Arhemia. All the laws and all the horror you've inflicted on its people. It grieves me that I had to flee and leave them all behind. But I knew that I was no use to them dead. Better flee and fight another day, that die in a ditch to your ambition."

The kings and queens of the council murmur amongst themselves.

"You have no proof! None! All you have are wild accusations, a fraud pretending to be my daughter, and so-called evidence from a mysterious source who you haven't even named." Arkham's face is a grotesque mask of anger, but Vergil isn't fooled. The vermin is afraid, very afraid.

At his side, Lady lets out a small chuckle.

 _"I_ gave them the information, _father,_ " she sneers the last word, "who else?"

Vergil keeps his face smooth and seemingly unruffled. He has little interest in anything but what Arkham plans to do next.

"Besides," she smiles now, smug and knowing, "there is no way anyone could get away with impersonating a member of Arhemia's Royal family, so were I a fake, I would be found out almost immediately."

Vergil almost smiles at that. No wonder she's so confident. He'd wondered if she had any worries in this whole venture. Having been "missing" for twenty years would mean that it could easily be so that her people would believe her a fake if Arkham said so… But if she has some way to prove her identity… Well, that's one potential hurtle out of the way.

"I will not put up with this. If it's war you want, King Vergil, then war you will have." With those parting words, Arkham ends the transmission on his side and disappears from the council.

"That went just about how I expected," Lady says, looking at Vergil.

"Agreed," he says, nodding slightly.

"If you _expected_ him to refuse and invite war, why did you bring together this council in the first place?" Queen Lucida's eyes are narrowed. Murmurs start up among the other rulers, agreement, worry.

Vergil tilts his head to the side, just slightly.

"Because I am very well aware that the other kingdoms believe me mad. I am very aware that all of you have waited since my coronation for me to do as Mundus once did and start a war, to go forth and conquer all I see." His eyes are cold as he sweeps over his peers, watching them pale and shift nervously in their seats as his gaze falls upon them.

"Aware of it as I am, I knew I had to make it very clear to this council that the coming war between Escana and Arhemia is not the start of some form of conquering crusade on my part, nor is it unprovoked. Arkham _will_ face the consequences for his crimes against me and my kingdom, and that is all."

Lady's face has returned to a neutral expression and she gazes at the other rulers.

"My father has committed crimes against more kingdoms than Arhemia and Escana. I have uncovered much over the years as I've been in hiding. But I came to Escana with the information, for I knew they would do something about it. I was, in fact, prepared for my kingdom to be absorbed into Escana as Osmynx once was, and it's only due to King Vergil's kindness that it will not be."

Vergil very deliberately does not scoff at being described as "kind" in any capacity. Appearances must be kept up.

"One thing will be very clear from here on out, however: Escana and Arhemia will be close allies after this, once the war is over and Arkham dethroned. The debt we will owe is too great for anything else."

"The debt, Crown Princess Lady, will go both ways."

He sees the surprise in her eyes, though she does a good job of masking it.

The meeting peters out after that, and Vergil almost smiles as he sees the shell-shocked rules of the neighbouring kingdoms say their goodbyes. After all, the meeting included many shocks to their systems, many revelations. Not the least that Vergil is very much aware that they all fear him as a mad power-hungry tyrant just waiting to start a war with all neighbouring countries.

They can believe whatever they want.

The most important thing in this world is for Vergil to have his brother returned to him.

Knowing that he's alive, that he's _out there,_ is like a balm to Vergil's soul.

For the first time in more than thirty years, he allows himself to think the name of his twin and other half.

_Dante…_


	7. Chapter 6

War preparations go by quickly.

Though, to be fair, they had already been prepared before father ever even demanded Arkham's surrender in front of the council of kings. No way would father have been sloppy enough to rush headlong into confronting Arkham without being prepared for the most likely outcome: war.

A part of Nero had hoped that Arkham would just surrender then and there, knowing that Arhemia has no chance to stand against Escana. It's a much smaller country, it has far less mages, and since the royal family of Escana houses the strongest arcane practitioners in the whole world… Well.

Perhaps it's a bit arrogant to think like that, but Nero doesn't really care. He knows it's true.

But at the same time Nero isn't surprised that Arkham refuses to back down. That he continuously plays the victim, sending messages and pleas for help to the neighbouring kingdoms… All of which refuse to give it. None of them want to get in the way of Escana taking revenge for something that has marred the kingdom for decades, something the entire kingdom has mourned since it occurred.

A wound that cannot heal, not unless what was taken is returned.

And since Arkham _cannot_ return what he stole and _refuses_ to take responsibility for his actions, war is the only way for Escana to take the justice they need.

Besides, while they didn't present their evidence there, they made sure all the other rulers knew that Arkham would face a public trial and that all the evidence they present at it would be verified by mages from multiple kingdoms across the land, not just Escana.

It had mollified them enough to stay their hands, though of course they all prepared for war. None of them wished to be taken by surprise should it turn out that Escana was lying about its intentions.

The battles start raging across the border, and while Nero would like to be involved, wants to help lead his people, his father and grandfather demand he stay with his grandmother in the castle to help her run things while they take care of everything at the front lines.

Lady, too, seems to dislike not being in the thick of things, but she also seems to accept that she's not a citizen of Escana, and thus the best thing she can do is keep herself alive until the war is over and they can finally take back her kingdom from her father's clutches.

Nero idly wonders what he would have done were he in her position. Would he have worked for two decades to gather informations to be able to rouse a different kingdom to fight his own to take it back? Or would he have let himself be driven out, and hid away in the shadows, just living his life as well he could?

He'd like to think he'd have her guts, her drive, but he's not sure.

When he mentions that to Trish, she just laughs at him.

"Kid, you spent _years_ creating your own tracking spell in order to find your mother, who, I might add, you don't even personally _know._ I have no doubt in my mind that you would have done much the same as Lady has, though possibly more recklessly and with less finesse."

The last bit makes him a bit put out, but he'll take it. She could have had a worse assessment of his character than that.

#

The months pass slowly; spring turn into summer, summer turns into autumn, until finally winter arrives.

For all that they have less means and are far smaller, Arhemia is putting up a good fight. Of course, they have the advantage in that Escana is trying to ensure as few deaths as possible, not wanting to destroy the country due to its ruler's crimes.

It's not the citizens' fault that Arkham seized control of the country.

As Nero and Kyrie tinker with a sword, hoping to imbue it with some elemental properties, Nero idly muses that some might lay much of the blame at Lady's feet.

It's true that you could argue that leaving the castle and hiding away for two decades gave Arkham the chance he needed. However, the truth is not nearly so clear cut. After all, Lady made it very clear that Arkham would have murdered her just like he did her mother had she stayed.

And considering the death of Queen Celine and the verified evidence on the topic, Nero has no doubt that she's right.

Arkham _would_ have killed her and taken control if she'd stayed.

And had she stayed… Well, they would never have known who was responsible for the kidnapping of the Twin Prince.

#

When news come from father about their success in breaking through the outer territories of Arhemia, Nero breathes a sigh of relief. It shouldn't be much longer now. Soon.

Soon.

Soon he'll find his mother.

And the person responsible for separating them in the first place will face the consequences of their actions.

Nero feels restless down to his very bones. He wants the fighting to be over, he want the war over so that they can start looking for Mother. Trish being called away to the fight makes it worse. Out of the fighters in the family, he's the only one left behind. It hurts his pride, but he tries not to take it personally.

Especially since…

There's a small part of Nero that is utterly terrified that Mother is unknowingly fighting on the front lines, risking death for a country not his own, fighting against his family for the sake of the person who stole him away in the first place.

If mother is anywhere near as powerful as father, then he must have gone to one of Arhemia's magic schools, mustn't he?

Though, if he did… That begs the question: how did Arkham not find him?

The worries and questions keep Nero up at night. He can't sleep, his thoughts a jumbled mess of anger and anxiety.

What if they're too late? What if Mother dies before they can find him?

He wasn't dead at the beginning of the year, the tracking spell made that much clear…

Unless it will only lead them to a grave of buried bones, the only remains of what was once father's other half.

No.

_No._

It cannot be true. Nero refuses to believe it. Mother is alive out there. They just have to find him.

As soon as the war is over, as soon as Lady sits on her rightful throne, they'll be able to search through Andelia properly, without fear of causing an international incident.

They just need to be patient.

But it's hard. It's so very very hard. Especially since Nero isn't out there with father, fighting and pushing the army forward.

But progress continues, and soon Escana's army has the capital surrounded.

Arkham seems poised to torch the entire place just to escape, just to _spite_ them…

But Trish does her job as head of the royal spies well. She makes her way into the city with a small entourage, taking the same routes they did months earlier when they went in to verify Lady's accusations.

Soon the city gates are open, and Trish welcomes her King into the city with Arkham on his knees, her blade at his throat, and magic dampening bracelets around his wrists.

Nero doesn't get to see it, but grandfather tells him about it with relish after the fact, once the armistice has been called, Lady has revealed herself to the people of Arhemia—telling them the _truth_ of Escana's attack, and proving her identity in front of projection crystals sending the images to every kingdom on the continent—and Nero and grandmother have finally been called to Arhemia to join with their family.

Escana is left to the royal council with Lord Morrison in charge, just for the time being.

Nero's blood almost boils in his veins.

_Finally._


	8. Chapter 7

Andelia, the shining jewel of the western coast—known for its harbours, intricate multiple city layers, and that it's capital of Arhemia—is cold as fuck.

Red pulls his ratty cloak closer around himself as he huddles in the small crawl-space in the back of a bakery, trying desperately to get some rest before he needs to get up and going for the day.

He's almost out of funds, which is, of course, why he's sleeping more or less outside rather than in some cheap motel somewhere in the undercity. If he goes to visit some old friends, he'll probably get some help in getting food and a place to sleep, but he _hates_ having to rely on charity. He hates not being able to look out for himself. After all, you never know when something that used to be useful no longer works out. After all… Work, both monster hunting and the underground fighting ring, has been scarce lately.

War does that to a country, apparently.

Not that Red would know much about that, he has little interest in politics, and less interest in what the Kingdom of Arhemia gets up to. The blasted place has never done anything for him, so when they tried to recruit him for the army, he'd taken a few days of rest in a camp bed and a few hot meals before he'd simply skipped over the fences of the training facility and fucked off into the belly of the undercity where they'd never find him.

Arhemia would just have to find someone else to fight their war.

Besides, Red did his part a few years back when they had that border skirmish with Lunmark. And all that had gotten him were a few cuts and bruises in the name of Arhemia before the army didn't need him anymore and he was out on his ass on the streets again. He was only good to Arhemia as a body to throw into the line of fire, and he has little interest in doing that.

One time was quite enough.

Besides, it's not like they can make him a wanted man for avoiding the draft, he doesn't have a legal identity, after all. All thanks to Arhemia and its shitty laws. If he could leave, he would have. But that, too, requires a legal identity of some form. Unless he shells out a minor fortune to get some fake papers, he's unlikely to get across the border into a different kingdom—especially not now, during wartime.

Honestly, Red kind of hopes Escana will kick Arhemia's ass. He's interested in seeing what will happen with a new ruler. Acting-Regent Arkham seems like a dick.

Time passes slowly as Red shivers. He needs a new cloak and new winter clothes, but he doesn't have funds for that either. He doesn't really have funds for anything. It's even worse knowing that his lack of legal identity means that any job he takes has to pay him illegal, as must any apartment he'd rent. And thus, he's shit out of luck for just about anything except sleeping on the street or in hidden crawlspaces in buildings, or abandoned but not yet demolished buildings—with the occasional stay in a motel or tavern… When he can spare the cash for it.

He's so fucking tired of living like this, taking shitty and-or illegal jobs to try and sustain himself, hoping against hope that he'll somehow find out who he is, what his True Name is.

Melissa, his adoptive mother, used to call him Tony Redgrave—always apologising for not knowing his True Name, for calling him something that chafed him so. Because it did; every part of him had known that "Tony" wasn't his True Name, but having lost his memory in the accident that killed his parents coupled with the fact that the carriage had been stripped of all their papers and valuables before the police got there, no one had known who he was.

And, of course, Arhemia law had made sure that Melissa couldn't adopt him and give him a legal identity—which would have given him some kind of future, rather than this constant living on the edge of starvation or freezing to death. In fact, Red is quite sure that if it hadn't been for the fact that he has some innate skills within the arcane, he probably would have died rather quickly after he first ended up on the streets after ageing out of the orphanage's care. After all, he doesn't need to sleep or eat as often as other people seem to, he's much less susceptible to the cold—impervious to it if he's eaten recently—and he's both faster and stronger. All in all, he's more or less made for surviving on the streets, even though he'd much rather have a job, a place to live, a steady stream of meals, and so on so forth.

If only Melissa hadn't died… If only the city officials had let Nell take him in after she did… If only, if only if only.

Well, it is what it is, and he can't change the past twenty-six years no matter how much he might want to. Though really, as much as he loved Melissa, he'd probably would have changed things thirty-five years ago rather than twenty-six. If his parents hadn't died, if the carriage hadn't been ransacked… Well.

Red lets out a grunt of frustration.

Sleep and rest is clearly impossible, and Red gives up on trying for the time being. He needs to get up and moving, it's too cold for him to remain still for too long when he hasn't eaten in a week. He'd thought that being situated at the back of the bakery would ensure the crawl space would be warm enough, but it's only slightly warmer than the outside air—which means that's it's pretty damn frigid.

He crawls out of the hole, and gets to his feet, feebly brushing the worst of the dirt off. Not that it matters much, he's covered in soot and grime anyway. He hasn't had a proper shower in a long time, just the occasional washes in cold water to keep the worst of it off.

He's genuinely surprised that he doesn't smell—he's had other denizens of the undercity remark about how peculiar that is, actually—but assumes it, like most of his other peculiarities, may have something to do with his innate arcane abilities, however strange a use for magic that is.

Still, soot dark hair is far less noticeable than silver-white, so he usually doesn't wash his hair at all. He cannot afford to waste money on actual dye, so soot and dirt it is.

As he rounds the front of the bakery, Red realises that the bakery now has a sign that says it will be closed for the next fortnight, explaining the lack of warmth in the crawl space in the back.

Figures.

He looks around, the streets are deserted and the lanterns still dim, so it's likely still very early. He shrugs his shoulders and starts heading to the nearest layer gap to head father down into the undercity. The only places open this time of day is likely to be bars and taverns that haven't closed, or the more reputable ones that are preparing for the coming day. Of course, it's entirely possible that he's entirely wrong about what time of day it is, maybe he did end up dozing some hours away in the crawlspace?

The middle layers are the poorest, and the upper layer the rich and clean ones; the further down you go, the more illegal the activities taking place. Down at the bottom layer? Only the worst of criminals and murderers, not even the police heads down there unless in large groups in search of a specific target and knowing exactly where said target is.

Red's been down there only a handful of times, usually when trying to get away from officers that are both a little too enthusiastic about their jobs and good at tracking people—even when said people are literally capable of scaling buildings and jumping in mid-air.

He passes through a large plaza when he notices a large crowd, pushing and struggling around one of the public communication crystals—maybe it isn't that early after all.

Is there some sort of public announcement going on?

He considers heading over to check it out, but the crowd's noise level is giving him a headache, so he decides to just leave it be. If it's something important, he'll likely hear about it later.

He picks up his money pouch and looks through the money inside. He has enough for a meal. _One_ meal; he can't risk running out of money entirely, not when he doesn't know when work will pick up again.

Once he finally gets two layers down, he heads to his favourite bar, The Purple Lantern—his favourite because the owner, Nevan, has a soft spot for him and will occasionally let him eat for free or sleep in the basement—to eat something. Red's friends are just about the only reason he's still alive.

Without the guns Nell gave him after he aged out of the orphanage's care… Well. He'd likely have met a quick and gruesome end in a back-alley many decades back. And without the occasional meal and board he got for free from people like Nevan or Ifrit… Well, he'd have starved or frozen to death.

He's gotten hardier with age.

Finally he sees the familiar signage and smiles to himself.

The warmth of the hearth washes over Red as soon as he steps inside, and he quickly pushes the door shut behind him to not let too much of the warm air escape outside. There's not many patrons this early, so Red has little fear of Nevan having to kick him out for how dirty he is—he really needs to get a wash sooner rather than later.

He heads to the bar and takes a seat just as Nevan comes out of the back room behind the bar.

"Red! I haven't seen you in a week! I'd almost started to think you'd become one of the Vanished," she says with a smile as she brushes some of her red hair out of her face. "What can I do for you? Did you come to bum a meal, a shower, and a place in my bed?" She leans on the bar and smiles at him, the smile he's seen make a lot of people go out of their minds, willing to do anything to please her.

Honestly, Red thinks one of the reasons Nevan likes him is because while he'll happily flirt back, it doesn't really have much of an effect on him and he doesn't actually expect anything from her.

"What can I say, Nev, work's been slow. I don't really have too much funds to be hanging around bars with. I was planning to pay for my food, promise." He grins at her and she laughs and rolls her eyes, shaking her head.

"Nonsense, it's on the house." She heads to the large cooking pot hanging over the bar hearth. "Though I'd appreciate it if you used those guns of yours to take care of some annoying wisps that have taken up residence in the basement recently. I'll even let you sleep there free of charge for a few days in return."

While Red hadn't expected such a good deal, he'd be an idiot to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"You've got yourself a deal, Nevan. I'll deal with them as soon as I've eaten."

"Good, good. They've broken a few of my better bottles, so I want them gone as quickly as possible," she says and places a big bowl of a hearty stew as well as a spoon in front of Red on the bar.

"Good thing you came so early, you know I can't let you get away with too much when I have patrons around. They'd get jealous," she says with a salacious wink.

Yeah, it's not actually the good food or the booze that draws the crowd in the Purple Lantern.

Silence falls like a thick blanket, comfortable and warm, as Red eats his food and Nevan busies herself with preparing her bar for the day.

"Really though, Red, you know I'd rent out the basement to you, legal identity or not." It's unusual for Nevan's face to look so serious.

Red winces. "You know I can't afford it, Nev," he sighs. "Besides, if someone catches on to it, it would ruin you. Besides, I'll be fine. Yeah it sucks, but I'm better equipped at surviving with only occasional room and board than most people."

"Don't play stupid. I've seen you during one of those migraines you get. If that hits you when you're outside and vulnerable..." Typical Nevan, always hitting below the belt.

"I'm _fine,_ Nev, really. Yeah, the migraines can get bad, but they're not that common and it's not like they'll kill me."

She purses her lips in frustration. They've had this argument many times before. He won't take (much of) her charity, but he will pay and do trades. If he could pay a fair price for the room, yeah he'd take her up on it. Unless business picks up again, that looks unlikely right now.

"Fine, have it your way. Now finish your food and get wisp killing. Don't come back until you've washed yourself."

"Aye aye, captain," Red says and gives her a small salute before he turns back to what remains of his stew. Today turned out far better than he could have ever guessed. Small mercies, he supposes.

"If you do a good enough job, I'll have a present waiting for you." She winks at him.

"You'll be nice to me, won't you?" He allows a salacious grin spread on his face. Sometimes Nevan's presents can be… _interesting_.

"Anything for that handsome face of yours."

They share another laugh and Red feels his spirits lift.

Now if only the war would get over with so he could start getting jobs again.


	9. Chapter 8

They throw Arkham in one of the darkest dungeons the royal castle of Arhemia has to offer, magic dampening spells covering every small part of the cell, and the bracelets still around his wrists.

Vergil will take no chances, he refuses to let the pest escape him. He will have to face a trial, unfortunately, but that doesn't mean that Vergil will give him the slightest chance to escape before it has taken place—or after it, for that matter.

Then again, he muses, once he's found guilty he'll have his head separated from his body. He'll hardly be running anywhere after that.

Unless he's remarkably healthy and thus capable of surviving a beheading, but Vergil quite doubts it.

Even so, the war was tiring. Mostly because he had to take care to kill as few as possible, but tiring nevertheless. Had he been allowed to go all out, do as he liked, he could have taken down most of the Arhemian army on his own.

There was a reason that most of the Long War was fought almost entirely between Mundus and Sparda, with the clashes of their armies being more like a second-thought than anything else. They merely clashed to avoid the other sneaking into the country while their kings battled it out.

Of course, Arkham couldn't, and _wouldn't_ face Vergil that way, so instead Vergil had been forced to take the much slower route of fighting with his army and going for stunning and sleep spells to capture rather than kill, most of the time. Some deaths were unavoidable, on both sides, but Vergil and Sparda had done their best to ensure that they were as few as possible.

In the end, however, perhaps it is worth it.

The people of Arhemia seem pleased that the war is over, happy that their rightful ruler has returned to them, and surprisingly alright with technically being under the control of Escana's army for the time being. In fact, most of the people Vergil has seen—not that is has been many, he can hardly spend a lot of time around the citizens of Arhemia—seem to be up to chatting amicably or asking questions of the soldiers stationed around the capital.

It's almost ridiculous, but it is what it is. They have likely suffered under Arkham's rule, and very few people seem to miss him at all. He ruled because he was the only one with the right to, not because anyone actually wanted him there.

Pathetic.

Even so, projecting Lady's proof of identity, and her speech to her people where she explained just why Escana attacked, and why she fought with them, likely went a long way to help them get most of the country on their side.

Truly, you do catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

#

"Father!" Nero seems pleased to him, which makes Vergil smile just slightly. His son's spirits seem high, likely due to the fact that they're closer than ever to finding Dante. The fact that his son has any sort of affection for him, despite his many shortcomings when it comes to raising him, gives Vergil some form of hope for himself. Perhaps he's not irreparably damaged. Perhaps finding his twin is all he needs.

Vergil can't wait, can barely contain himself, in fact. It's an unusual feeling for him, to say the least, but it is what it is.

"Nero, I'm glad to see you well. How was the trip?" He smiles at the young man as he comes to a halt in front of Vergil.

"It was fine, it went by pretty quickly, even though grandmother asked for a few stops so she could admire the view." Nero looks put out, as if can't possibly understand how his grandmother couldn't want to get to Andelia as quickly as possible.

"Well, you're here now. We'll be meeting with Lady in a few hours to decide on our next step." Vergil rolls his shoulders. "Do you think we could do your tracking spell to get a more precise location now that we're in the city?" It would certainly be useful if it were that easy.

Nero shakes his head with a sigh.

"Kyrie and I looked it over again, we managed to create a spell that can track over extreme distances, and through any magical barrier set up—due to the blood components—but it's not… very precise." He winces and lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug. "We'd have to rework the spell _again_ for that, which would probably take more time than it's worth. A regular scrying spell might do better."

Vergil hums in understanding.

A pity.

Especially since he's seen quite a few anti-scrying spells carved into the buildings around the city. It's unlikely that a regular scrying spell would be able to punch through that much warding to give any results.

"Well then, how about you go and clean yourself before you join us for dinner. We'll plan after that."

Nero nods his understanding.

"I will see you at dinner then, father," he says with a nod and a small bow, before he heads off towards the sleeping quarters he was assigned.

Vergil nods to himself.

They will find Dante.

Soon.

#

Dinner is adequate, but Vergil finds he has little interest in the food. He doesn't need to eat nearly as much as most, so the sheer amount of food on his plate feels like quite a bit of overkill.

Someone might suggest that he's simply nervous, and too wired to eat, but that's patently ridiculous. He's certainly no such thing.

Time passes slowly, far slower than Vergil would like, but he's long since learned the value of patience.

Once dinner was finally over and done with, they gathered in one of the castle's studies to discuss what their next step would be.

"There are still things we need to hammer out when it comes to distribution of power as well as the peace treaty between our kingdoms. Arkham's council has asked to meet with us, and I already know who the snakes are and who did what they had to do in order to try and keep some semblance of peace and prosperity for the people of Arhemia." Lady looks grim, as if she's well aware that this is the opposite of what Vergil wants to hear.

She's not wrong. He wants to go out there to find Dante, his other half, immediately. At the same time he's also quite aware that the people of Arhemia know him on sight and that as King he can hardly just stroll along the streets.

"True. However, I want to start looking for my brother as quickly as possible, the more we delay…" he trails off, uncertain how to end the sentence.

"Absolutely," Lady agrees. She crosses her arms over her chest, and opens her mouth to continue, but before she can…

"I can do that!" Nero sounds eager, full of confidence, and his very stance seems battle ready. As if he'd go out there and fight a thousand monsters right this second if it brought Him to them. Vergil recognises the feeling in himself, though he's better at keeping it contained.

"I believe that Trish and the royal spies should work with the Arhemian court to go through citizen documents and special reports of interest, to try and narrow down our search area." Vergil doesn't roll his eyes, but it is a near thing. "We don't know if He's living as a free man, or if he's trapped somewhere."

The thought of his brother being locked in a dungeon somewhere makes Vergil's stomach turn. It's far beneath his brother, he should be elevated, praised… not hidden away in a dungeon, captured and kept from his family.

"But I can't just sit around and do nothing!" Nero immediately retorts, clearly willing to butt heads on the issue.

Vergil narrows his eyes, he doesn't take well to being questioned, not even by his own son. But before he can say something cutting in return, Lady cuts in again.

"Actually, I was thinking that perhaps…" She looks between them. "Perhaps you could go looking for Red?"

Ah, yes, the illusive Red. The person who unknowingly set this whole thing in motion. A person Vergil owes a great debt despite never having met.

Nero looks surprised for a brief moment, before his face turns pensive.

"Well, I don't know what he looks like and I have no idea where he'd be. I'm not sure I'd be the best person to go looking for him…" He scratches the back of his head, looking put out. Vergil wonders if it's due to the fact that he just had to admit that he may not be able to do the task Lady suggested he undertake.

"Well, he should be pretty well known in the mid to lower levels. I went to a bar with him, I'll write down some directions and the name for you, so you could start there. He also mentioned that he was in underground fighting tournaments, so if he's still doing that, he should be even more well known for that."

She stretches, and rolls her neck before she looks Nero in the eyes again.

"Honestly, I would have gone myself, but since I had to reveal myself to the public, just like King Vergil I cannot simply walk down the street in search of someone like that." She glances briefly at Vergil. "Besides, both of us have to be here for now."

Vergil watches his son shift from foot to foot. Vergil assumes that his wish to be active and do something is warring with his dislike of what seems like an unsuitable task that is unrelated to finding his mother. Vergil is quite certain of his son's priorities.

"Do you think this Red would be able to help us find my twin?" Vergil watches Lady's face carefully.

She blinks in surprise and crosses her arms over her chest as she ponders the question.

"Possibly. He's very powerful in the arcane _and_ he knows Andelia far better than I do. It's absolutely possible that he could help us find the Twin Prince." She nods to herself as she speaks. "I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier. It might help us find Him faster than going through the records will, though we should of course still do that."

Vergil nods his understanding. Fair enough.

"I'll do it." Nero looks determined.

Vergil doesn't allow himself the smile that wants to spread on his lips. He knew Nero would do it given the right motivation.

Some might consider this manipulations, but what do they know. Vergil knows Nero, knows his drive to be useful and his wish to find his mother, find Vergil's other half, and giving him an outlet for his desire is far better than make him wait and do nothing.

It's to both of their advantage, and better for both of them.


	10. Chapter 9

Nero looks down at the short description Lady wrote down for time to help him not only locate the bar Red had taken her to, that one time more than twenty years ago—holy shit why is he even doing this there's no way that bar is still going to be there—but also a description of what Red looks like.

_He was quite tall, somewhere around King Vergil's height, if my memory serves, he was also broad shouldered but he was also quite lean, just this side of gaunt—too long with too little food, no doubt. His hair was soot dark and ashen, but it was clearly due to dirt and soot, so his actual hair colour is likely very light._

_He mentioned doing both monster hunting and underground fighting, so ask around and see if you can find someone who knows anything. Be aware that they're not likely to be willing to talk too much about it, due to the fact that it's not strictly legal, and outright illegal since Red doesn't have an identity. If you look too clean and too out of place down there, they **will** assume that you're police and refuse to speak to you altogether._

Well, it's not all that much to go on, but it is what he's got. He continues on his way down, the map in a small satchel and dressed in far less expensive clothes than he's used to. Lady, apparently, had faced a similar obstacle when going down there the first time herself, so she was prepared for Nero's sake.

He looks at the spot where The Golden Gauntlet is supposed to be situated, but the sign says The Purple Lantern. It's clearly still a bar-tavern-inn mix, but it probably has new owners.

Still, it's entirely possible that Red still frequents the place. Maybe he knows the new owner as well?

Mind made up, Nero pushes the door open and heads inside.

It's a roomy but cozy looking place, wooden panels, sturdy tables, and a stage at the opposite end of the room. To his left there is a counter, behind which he can see many bottles of alcohol but also a large fireplace and cooking utensils.

"Well hello there, stranger. I haven't seen you here before." A woman with almost startlingly red hair comes out from a room behind the counter, her gaze travelling along the length of Nero's body. Once she finally looks him in the face, she stops, and her gaze grows sharper. She strokes her chin slightly and makes a humming noise. He narrows his eyes slightly, wondering what that's all about.

"Uh, yeah. I was recommended this place by a friend." True enough, though it has several points to it that not exactly the truth.

The woman smiles, clearly pleased. "Well, my tavern does come highly recommended." She runs a hand through her hair and leans on the counter. "So what can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for someone." No point in beating around the bush. Either this woman knows something, or she doesn't. The longer he fucks around, the longer it'll take him to get anywhere.

She raises an elegant eyebrow and tilts her head to the side. "And who, pray tell, are you looking for?" There's something sharp in her gaze and Nero isn't sure he likes it. In fact, he doesn't like it. Not at all.

"He calls himself 'Red'," Nero says, but before he can get any further, the woman suddenly has him by his shirt and is hauling him over the counter.

He hits the floor hard, and it knocks the air out of his lungs, making his eyes water.

Shit. He hadn't expected her to be that fast or that strong.

Sloppy. Father would be fucking disappointed if he saw this.

"What do you want with Red?" the woman hisses, and Nero feels the the undeniable sensation of a blade being pressed to his throat.

She means business then.

"Old friend... wants to... see him," he chokes out, still trying to regain his breath.

The redhead doesn't look the least bit impressed. "Does this friend have a name?" She doesn't move an inch, and her grip is like steel. Nero would be happy to take her on in a real fight, she certainly seems strong enough for it.

"Well?" she snarls and the blade presses in deeper and Nero realises that he shouldn't get distracted.

"Lady," he coughs, "Her Name is Lady." He makes sure that he puts emphasis on that it's her Name, not a nickname or just something she calls herself. The woman in front of Nero clearly knows Red, so maybe she knows Lady too.

The woman blinks, her face slackening in shock and to Nero's surprise she actually removes the knife from his throat.

"Lady? Wow, now _there's_ someone I wasn't expecting to hear about..." She looks pensive, rubbing her chin with the back of her hand, her own knife perilously close to her own neck.

"You know her?"

She snorts. "No, but I know _of_ her. Red's mentioned her. A mysterious rich girl who slummed it up, and in the process came across some rather horrifying truths. He didn't give me many details, just said that he was glad to have helped her out, even if he didn't know what became of her in the end." Her eyes are hard. "So she lives then?"

"She does. She's uh..." he trails off, uncertain how much he should say. "She's finally managed to deal with her... problems, so she doesn't need to hide anymore."

"Her father's dead then? Good, he sounded like an absolute asshole."

Nero decides not to correct the assumption, simply rubs his throat gently as she finally lets him sit up.

"I'm Nevan," she says and gets to her feet. "Who are you?"

"Nero." He gets to his feet and brushes his clothes off. Damn, if all of Red's friends are like this, he can't wait to meet the man himself.

"Well, Nero, Red's not here right now." Nevan rolls her shoulders. "Since Escana finally won the war and the soldiers have come back and things are... settling down, should we say, the underground fighting ring is finally back in order. Red's down there defending his crown and earning some money."

Nero nods to himself. "Lady did say they he did both monster hunting and underground fighting."

Nevan smiles then, and there's this look on her face, almost seductive. "Got that right. You looking for a fighter, there's no one better than Red."

An excited tingle runs down Nero's spine. While there's no way this Red can be anywhere close to father's level... He can't help the excitement of finding someone worth fighting.

"Can you give me directions to the underground fighting ring?"

#

The underground fighting ring is not what Nero expected at all. It's more like a big hole in the ground where the fighters can't escape each other while an audience sits in big stands around it, looking down.

The rules are clear: no weapons, no offensive magic, and no killing.

Nero was surprised when Nevan explained the last rule to him, but she'd just snorted at him.

"Dead fighters are bad for revenue. Besides, the fewer fighters, the fewer battles. And a good fight doesn't end in death."

Nero took her at her word and shrugged his shoulders. He doesn't have any experience with shit like that, so it's not like he knows anything about the topic.

"Red goes by the name Grave in the fighting ring, so if you want to ask about him there, you'll have to ask for Grave, not Red," Nevan had said just before Nero headed out the door.

"Why?" It didn't make sense to Nero, why would Red go by multiple names?

Nevan smiled sadly, and shook her head. "Red doesn't know his True Name, so anything he calls himself is equally worthless to him. However, all the nicknames he uses come from the same source: the Name he would have been Given if the woman who raised him had been allowed to adopt him." She opened her mouth to say something else then, but stopped herself. "I shouldn't say more, it's not my story to tell. You'll have to ask Red himself if you want more details."

Nero had bid his goodbyes and headed off with new directions.

Having a purpose was good. He'd _hated_ being idle and stagnant, doing nothing but wait for news from father and grandfather.

Well, if helping grandmother rule Escana can count as "nothing", that is.

Considering Nero never wants the throne... Well, it's not something he especially likes.

If this Red can help them find Mother, and father gets better... Well, perhaps they will simply rule Escana for centuries to come, and Nero will never have to take the throne at all.

That's honestly the dream for Nero. He doesn't _want_ to rule _shit._

"Ladies and gentlemen!" A shabby looking man in a top hat steps out on the small stage that breaks up the stands. "You've all have had much patience waiting for the final fight of the night, and it is sure to be a pleasure!" He laughs then as the audience cheers, the sound echoing around the room. "I hope you've placed your bets, for the cut-off is finally here."

The sound of doors scraping open prompts Nero to look away from the shabby man on the stage and down into the pit instead, where two men step out of opposite ends of the round hole.

Nero's breathing stops.

"Our reigning champion Grave is here to defend his title from his eager rival Drastan!"

The audience howls and screams, but the noise fades away as Nero's heartbeat starts to overpower it all.

He stares at one of the men who stepped out.

He fits Lady's description: tall, broad shouldered but lean, and clearly light hair darkened with soot and grime. Nero has no doubt in his mind that he's Red.

But he's _so much more_ than that.

Looking at his face, Nero has no doubt at all.

There can only be one other person in the world who looks exactly like father.

_Mother..._

#

Nero stares at the fight, almost falling out of his seat with how far forward he's leaning—desperate to see his mother's skills. He must have _some_ , right? Even if... Even if his life has been tough and he's had no formal training.

Some of it has to be innate, it _has to be_.

Drastan rushes forward, eagerly throwing the first punch, but Red, mother, _Red_ neatly side-steps it and pushes him straight into the wall with the flat of his hand between Drastan's shoulder blades.

Nero can't stop the grin. _Of course_ such a sloppy attack would be easy to dodge. What was Drastan even thinking?

The battle continues in much the same way, even from as far away as he is, Nero can see that Red is more or less simply toying with Drastan. There are a few hits that _seem_ close, but Nero's skilled enough to be able to tell that it's deliberate, to make the fight seem more even than it is.

If there's betting going on, then Red cannot prove himself too superior, or he wouldn't be allowed to fight, most likely.

Red kicks Drastan's legs out from under him and slams his elbow into his back, ending the fight decisively, when Drastan remains on the ground, coughing and groaning. Alive and mostly well, but not making any attempt to getting back on his feet.

"That does it, ladies and gentlemen! Grave has once again defended his title!"

The noise in the room is deafening as the cheering starts, but Nero has no intent on staying in his seat. He needs to get a hold of Red. Now that he's found him, found _Him_ , he cannot let him go. No way.

_Wait for me, Mother, I'm coming. We'll be a family again, soon._


	11. Chapter 10

Nero pushes through the crowd, heading towards the announcer's platform. He needs to get to where Red is, somehow, before he loses track of him.

Suddenly, someone grabs him roughly by the collar of his shirt and stops him in his tracks. He looks up to find a large bouncer holding on to him.

"Woah there, kid. Where do you think you're going?" The announcer suddenly appears from the side, a frown marring his face. "Only fighters can go behind here, and besides. I haven't seen you here before."

"I... I just..." Nero fumbles for the words, uncertain of what he should say. "Grave, I'd like to..." he trails off, trying to gather his thoughts. But before he can continue, the announcer laughs.

"You want to fight Grave, kid? Now _there's_ a fight I'd pay to see." He chortles loudly and waves his hand and the bouncer drops his grip on Neor's sweater.

"What, no, I—" but before Nero can explain himself, the announcer starts moving away.

"Wait here, kid. I'll go check and see if Grave's willing."

And then he's gone, and nero's left standing with the bouncer, feeling like an idiot.

He wants to _talk_ to Red, not _fight_ him...

#

"Ladies and gentlemen! We've got a funny little treat for you! A young newcomer eager to take on Grave himself!"

Nero tunes out the announcer and stops himself from banging his head against the wall as he waits for the gate to open so he can step into the fighting ring. He was just supposed to find Red, talk to him, bring him back to the castle... Not fight in the underground arena.

He glances across the arena and on the other side, behind another gate, he can see Red.

Anticipation churns in Nero's gut. He can't help but want to fight him too. It's _mother_.

He wants to see how he stacks up against father—even as he knows how unfair the comparison will be, father grew up being taught how to fight and to harness his magic, mother certainly didn't. Still, some of it _must_ be inherent in them, otherwise there's no way Red could have trounced his opponent so easily before.

"Let the battle begin!"

The gates slide open and Nero takes a few step forward, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles. No point in doing anything but taking this seriously. he can probably convince Red to talk to him after the fight.

For now, it's best to just get it over with as quickly as possible.

"Well, kid, let's see what you got." Red's voice is different from fathers, not just in how it sounds, but in the way he talks. There's a smugness and a warmth in his tone that father lacks. Not to mention the swagger Red walks with.

Opposites yet complimentary.

Nero smiles. "Ready when you are, old man."

The smile that lights up on Red's face is just this shade of savage, and then he moves.

The first punch is fast... for an average person.

Nero dodges it easily, and ducks beneath the follow-up swing Red makes with his other arm. He doesn't strike back, and instead lets Red to most of the attacking, choosing to dodge and move out of the way. He blocks several punches and kicks with little trouble, they're... strong, but only on the strong side of average. More like the regular soldiers in Escana than anywhere near father.

It's... disappointing.

This _can't_ be all. This is Nero's _mother_ , his father's _other half._ He should be father's _equal,_ but he's not even stronger than Nero?

The disappointment, the frustration, and the anger is like a vat of acid in the pit of his stomach. If these years since he was stolen has ruined him so completely, drained him of his power to the point where _this_ is all there is... how can Nero ever take him to father? How can he ever let them reunite?

Mother wouldn't stand a chance against father, and Nero cannot even imagine how badly father would take it. Would take knowing that his other half has been... drained. Ruined.

There's no way that he'll have inherited the long life-span like father if he's inherited nothing but the colouring... Perhaps it would be... kinder to simple not introduce them at all. Sabotage all attempts at finding him, and pretend that he never found him at all.

Nero wants to scream. He wants to destroy something. He wants to bash Arkham's fucking face in.

Nero's dreamed for _years_ of finding his father's twin... To have reality be something like this...

He snarls, dodges another too-slow punch, and pushes Red straight into the wall with a palm in the back—just as Red had done to his opponent previously.

Red stays against the wall for a few moments, and Nero is suddenly uncomfortably aware of how quiet the audience has become. He glances up and sees them all stare in amazed confusion, mouths hanging open.

They had clearly not expected him to come anywhere close to Red's level.

"You're strong... and fast." Red turns around and there's a light in his eyes, an almost manic glint. "You can _fight,_ kid." A smile spreads on his lips, showing off his teeth.

"Yes, I can." Nero says and narrows his eyes. he doesn't quite like the look on Red's face.

Red laughs briefly. "I don't have to hold back then. Let's rock, kid." He barely finishes the sentence before he's almost flying forward, sending Nero scrambling to the side to avoid the punch.

So fast—!

He doesn't have time to dodge the kick and is instead forced to block it. The force of the kick sends him flying into the wall on the opposite end of the arena.

Some brickwork comes loose as he hits it, coughing slightly.

He moves his head out of the way of the punch just in time, and retaliates by kicking forward.

It's like kicking a reinforced wall with how solid Red suddenly is.

"What the fuck," Nero gasps out, dodging down and just barely managing to grip Red in a throw to hurl him away to regain some space between them.

Red laughs as he gets free from the wall, brushing dust off his shoulders. "I haven't had this much fun in ages."

Nero prepares himself and they lunge at the same time. Nero has the advantage of proper training, but it's clear that Red simply has more experience—and more power to burn.

It's almost a relief to be slammed into the ground, an arm twisted behind his back and a knee digging into his spine.

Red hasn't been destroyed after all. He just holds back.

"G-grave wins!" The announcer sounds shaken, and the audience is making noise again—though Nero can hear the slight trepidation.

The weight disappears from his back, and Nero hurries to his feet.

Red is scratching the back of his head with a troubled expression.

"What's wrong? You won..." Nero frowns. Why the fuck is Red seemingly upset about winning?

"Yeah. But I also tipped my hand." Red sighs. "I'm unlikely to get invited back for fighting again. Which is fucking shit considering I need the income."

For a brief moment Nero had forgotten that Red _doesn't know._ He doesn't know that he'll never want for anything ever again, not now that Nero has found him.

"I... I wasn't planning on fighting you," he blurts, trying to stop Red from heading off. "I just wanted to talk to you."

Red gives him a confused look.

"Why's that? I know for a fact that I've never met you before, the hell you want with me?"

Nero bites his lip. How much should he explain? Maybe... maybe it's best if he plays it safe, if he only explains why he came searching for _Red_ , and the rest will have to follow.

"Lady wanted me to find you."

Red's eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline.

"No shit? She's still alive?" He looks both surprised and pleased by the knowledge.

Nero nods. "Yeah. She finally succeeded with what she had to do and uh... She wants to thank you. She says she owes you."

Red snorts and shakes his head. "I did her a small favour twenty years ago. I'm surprised she even reme—!"

"Small?!" Nero cuts him off before he can finish the sentence. "You _Named_ her. On your own. Without a ritual. That's not _small."_

Red just shakes his head, but before they can continue the announcer starts gesturing for them to get out of the pit.

"Well... I guess we'll talk more once we're out of here."

Nero decidedly doesn't breathe a sigh of relief, he keeps it inside. At least he's gotten Red's attention, now he just needs to convince him to come with Nero back to the castle...

That might be an issue.

#

"Seriously kid, I knew Lady was from the upper levels, but we're fucking heading to the top. How rich _is_ she anyway?" Red's outfit now is slightly more fitting to his moniker, what with him wearing a long red coat. It does, however, look old and worn, and far too cold for the current weather, even with a ratty cloak thrown over it. A few years back the coat was probably better coverage for the elements, but from what Nero could tell, the lining has worn out, and coupled with the creaks in the leather... Nero wouldn't be surprised if he bought it twenty years ago, using some of the money he got from Lady.

"Rich," is all Nero says in response to the question, he doesn't feel like he can really elaborate on that yet. He doesn't want to spook Red, he _needs_ to get him into the castle. First he needs to get him to the top layer, though, because he only knows about a single secret entrance to the castle, and they can hardly walk in the front gates.

Nero's sure that there are hidden entrance points on other layers than the topmost one, but he also understands why Lady didn't tell him about those.

Still, it probably would have made this easier—they'd certainly stick out less that way. Because say what you will, Red is dirty enough that he sticks out like a sore thumb on the upper layers of Andelia.

Reaching the building that houses the secret entrance is a relief. Quickly tapping the code on the lock and dragging Red with him, Nero breathes a sigh of relief from the warmth of the house. Behind him, Red shudders.

"Damn that's nice," he mutters as he shakes slightly. Nero can only wonder how cold he must be, his clothes are far less protection than Nero's, even though Nero was wearing clothes that were far less impressive than his usual magic-infused ones.

Another thing Red _should_ have grown up with but didn't.

And something, Nero is quickly realising, _no one_ should be without. Not just Red because he was born royalty, because he was born Nero's family. _No one_ should live like Red has.

It's an interesting—if uncomfortable—way of being faced with your privilege.

"We still have some way to go. There's a secret passage in here that will take us where we need to go."

Red raises an eyebrow and then lets out a low chuckle. "Whatever you say, kid. Lead the way."

Having Red at his back is comfortable. He's a warm presence, and he really is a complement to father. Warm and relaxed where father is cold and stiff. But he also seems less disciplined and far sloppier.

It all fits.

"I, uh, I just need to make a call, so they know to expect us. I don't know if they expected me to find you so quickly."

Red suddenly stops, not taking another step, forcing Nero to turn around and head back a few steps. Why did he do that all of a sudden?

"They?" Red's face is calm, but Nero can see a creeping hint of suspicion on his face.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

He should have been more careful. He didn't think Red would even _notice_ something like that.

"Uh, yeah. Lady and my father." Nero just barely keeps form fidgeting. He feels much like a small prey animal in the gaze of a predator, but he's _not._ If it comes down to a real battle with proper magic, then Nero can win. He knows he can. "Look, Lady came to my family for help to take down her father. He... He hurt us too, so it was personal for us as well. We _all_ owe you."

Red is silent, and he rubs his chin in thought.

"Alright. Let's go then."

Nero nods and turns back around, continuing down the corridor. He picks his audio communication crystal out of his pocket, he's within in range now, so there should be no problem using it.

It glows in his hand as he activates it, it's dull green light casting an almost eerie glow on the stone walls surrounding them.

"Trish? It's me."

The reply is almost instantaneous. "Nero? You're back already? Did something happen?"

It's been a few hours, Nero knows that much, but a lot of it was pure travel time, so it must look like he's barely done anything.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Can you tell Lady that I've found Red and that we're coming through the passageway now?"

A small tinkling laugh comes through the crystal.

"Good job, kid. That was fast. I'll let her know, head to the small meeting room, will you?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Nero says, nodding to himself.

That should be just fine.


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunion! We're almost at the end now!

Red wasn't sure what he expected when he followed the kid, but it certainly wasn't all this secrecy. Secret tunnels, another family that Lady's fucked up dad caused harm? Well, the man certainly got around it seems.

Still, there's something about the way the kid looks at him at times, like he's someone the kid _knows_ , which is patently ridiculous. The kid is way too young to have known him before his parents died, and Red certainly doesn't remember him from after that, so... There's just no way, really.

Though if Red is honest with himself, something about the kid seems familiar. Somehow.

Still, it'll be nice to see Lady again, even though he has no idea why she wants to see him. It was twenty years ago, and she already more than paid him back with all that money she gave him at the time. Naming her hadn't even... He hadn't really _meant to,_ had he? He'd just said it with conviction, knowing it was important to her that he call her something other than "Mary". He didn't think it would... Name her.

Well, whatever. He won't look a gift horse in the mouth... Much, anyway. There's something about all this that's off, and it's only his curiosity that's made him come with the kid in the first place. Who knows what he's actually after and why he's doing this at all.

Well, time will tell. Red's willing to bet they're almost there, judging by the way the kid seems to almost vibrate in place.

#

Lady's... house? Is it a house? It's fucking huge and ostentatious as _shit._ Can it really count as a house?

Whatever, Lady's "house" is ridiculous, and Red feels like Nero should have forced him to take a bath or something before coming in. If Red had felt out of place in the upper levels, he's even more so now.

Everything is shining, there's gold and drapes and fancy vases and an ungodly amount of fancy shit all around, and here Red is... In an almost twenty years old leather coat, dirty old boots, a face that's smudged with dirt and with his hair still made dark with dirt and soot. He doesn't fit in with his surroundings _at all,_ and he's well aware of the way the... servants? Staff?—Fucking hell, she must be so fucking rich—are whispering and staring as he follows the kid, Nero, past them.

The so called "small meeting room" is larger than Nevan's entire basement. How the _hell_ is this a "small" meeting room?

"Shit, kid, I feel like I should have showered a few hundred times before being allowed inside here." He lets his voice be coloured by humour, because it is actually kind of funny. Anything he touches will need to be cleaned, no doubt.

"Hah... I mean, I wanted to get you here as quickly as possible. But if you want a shower and get your clothes cleaned, I'm sure we can—!" before the kid can continue on, Red cuts him off.

"Nah, I'm good. More worried about the state of all this finery once I take a seat." He watches a small smile slit across the kid's face, but before they can say anything else, the door behind Red slams open.

"Red!" Lady's voice hasn't changed much, but there's a lot more joy in it than last he heard it.

"Lady," he says, turning around. "What's it been? Twenty years?" He cocks one hip and gives her a grin.

"I—yes, yes it has been." She suddenly looks confused, and out of sorts. She keeps glancing between Red and the kid. What's she up to?

"What's wrong? Have you forgotten what my handsome face looks like, or what?"

She laughs, and the kid makes a choking noise, but there's a hint of hysteria to her voice.

"Oh god, Red. No, I... I mean, yes, I had." She shakes her head and comes closer, and takes him by the arms. "It's good to see you. I... I worried you might not... Be around, anymore."

"Woah, hey, you don't want to go grabbing. Have you looked at me? You're gonna need to wash your hands," Red says, completely ignoring the part where he could have died in the past twenty years. He certainly could have, easily even, but he's not one to dwell.

"I don't mind. I really don't." Despite her words, she lets go and steps back. "It's good to see you. I just wasn't expecting Nero to find you so quickly."

Red shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not that hard to find these days. I've got a bit of a reputation... Though I don't think I'll be able to go back to the fighting ring after today." He rolls his shoulders. He'll figure something out. "Nevermind that though, what did you want with me?"

Lady seems to shake herself.

"It was actually two things. I wanted to help you and ask for your help." She bites her lip and seems to be choking down another hysteric giggle. "But... neither of it seems to be necessary anymore."

Which... fuck, what?

"You... what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Red has no idea what she's on about. She took one look at him and now decided that she doesn't need to help him and he can't help her? What the fuck?

"No, I... I wanted your help in finding someone. But... It turns out I don't need to find them anymore. And, helping you... You won't be needing my help."

Red opens his mouth to question her on what she's talking about, but then the door behind her opens.

"I apologise for my tardiness, I got caught up by talking with mother and father first. They'll be along shortly." A man with silver-white hair steps inside—he must be Nero's father. He's looking at a piece of parchment, but then he looks up and Red finds himself staring at his own face—cleaner and healthier, with less gauntness to it, but still his face.

"Did you find... Red..." The man trails of and comes to a halt. He stares at Red as much as Red is staring at him.

"What the fuck..." Red breathes. What the hell is going on? Why is... is...

"Who... You..." He cant get the words out properly.

Their eyes meet and Red feels like something inside him slides into place, like something inside him that was missing suddenly returns.

He rubs at his chest, just over his heart. It almost seems to _ache_ the longer he looks at this man, this man who looks just like Red himself.

Twins?

The word pops up in his head. Is this... Is this his twin? Is he a twin? Was this why Lady said she didn't need to help him anymore, because looking at him now she realised that his _family_ would find him now?

The man moves closer and Red notices how Lady steps out of the way, she goes to stand next to the kid, but Red's attention is quickly drawn back to the man.

He comes to a halt just in front of Red, and stares.

Red swallows. He... He doesn't know what to do. He never expected anything like this. He doesn't know what to _do._

The man's hand comes up, Red can see that it's shaking, and then it gently cups Red's cheek. A thumb strokes his cheekbone, heedless of the dirt streaking his skin.

 _"Dante..."_ It comes out as a reverent whisper, too low for anyone else to hear, falling out of the man's mouth as if he can't help it.

But it rocks Red to his core. He feels it in his chest, like an explosion of light in his brain.

His _Name._

He collapses in the man's arms, buries his face in his shoulder.

"That's my _Name,"_ he says, though it comes out like a pathetic whine. He clutches at the man's coat and tries to keep from crying as arms encircle him.

"Yes... Yes it is..." The man lets out a low, disbelieving laugh. "I'm Vergil... Your twin brother. Your _other half."_

Vergil.

The name rocks Re— _Dante_ to the core, just the same way his own name had. Somehow, somehow he knows that it's the truth.

"Vergil," he murmurs the name, and feels the other man shudder.

He's not sure how long they stand like that, wrapped up in each other, before the door opens a third time.

"Apologies, we..." The woman's voice that floats through the door trails off, and the sound of a the door sliding shut is loud in the otherwise silent room.

Dante finally looks up from Vergil's shoulder and finds him staring at an older couple. Their faces are shocked and pale, and he can see tears in their eyes.

"Is that... are you...?" He stumbles over the words, uncertain if he dares to speak them aloud.

"That's our parents," Vergil murmurs, voice carrying through the room, and suddenly the couple moves forward, swarming around them. And then the kid is there too, and Dante finds himself surrounded by people who _know_ him even though they don't know him.

He laughs wetly. "I didn't actually think I'd ever actually find out what my Name is."

#

The water in the bath is warm and the many soaps smell really good.

Dante scrubs at the stubborn dirt on his skin and the soot in his hair. He's washed and rinsed and rinsed, but much of it still stubbornly clings to him.

He's alone for the moment, though he kind of has the impression that given the opportunity, his family— _his family_ —would be with him at all times if they could. If he didn't need clothes and didn't want some privacy as he got the dirt off, he'd probably let them. At least... at least Vergil.

Shit, Dante misses him already, and he's only been gone for fifteen minutes or so.

As he lathers up his hair again, Dante hums to himself. He has a feeling that there's still a lot more for him to know. He doesn't even know anyone's names besides Vergil and Nero. They'd wanted to get him clean, into better clothes, and get some food into his stomach more than they'd wanted to talk, apparently.

Looking himself in the mirror and comparing it to what Vergil looks like, Dante can kind of see why. There's a gauntness to his face he'd started to assume was just the way his features are, but looking at Vergil... It's more likely that as much as he's been able to survive with as little food as he's gotten, he certainly hasn't been thriving. It may even have been slowly killing him.

There's a knock on the door then, soft raps that cut through the silence.

"Who's there?" Dante calls out as he massages another round of hair cleaner into his scalp.

"It's me. Vergil." The words float through the door, and Dante realises that though Vergil most certainly could have just barged in, he's respecting Dante's privacy. It makes him smile.

"Come in." He wants to see him. He feels drawn to him in a way he can't explain, in a way he's never experienced before.

Vergil steps inside and closes the door gently behind him. He places a set of clothes on a chair by the door before he slips out of his coat, rolls up his sleeves, and continues to remove clothing until he's in just his shirt and pants, both of them rolled up. Only then does he walk further inside the bathroom.

"Is the dirt stubborn?"

Dante laughs. "Yeah, the soot has been in my hair for so long I'm starting to think I dyed it permanently by accident."

Vergil chuckles. "Do you mind if I...?" he doesn't finish the sentence, instead he simply raises his hands. Dante hums and turns his back to him, removing his own hands from his hair.

Vergil's hands in his hair feel almost unbearably intimate, and the aching in his chest returns. He doesn't know how to deal with it all, but he wants it, desperately.

He lets Vergil rub at his scalp and rinse his hair several times, until finally Vergil's hands slide down to his shoulders and his breath tickles Dante's ear as he whispers "It's clean now."

With courage he's not sure where it comes from Dante cranes his neck, turns his head, and pulls Vergil into a kiss.

Vergil's hands slide along Dante's chest as he deepens the kiss, and Dante finds himself dizzy with it.

He lifts a hand and holds Vergil by the back of his neck.

They share their first kiss in the bath, deep and searching, and Dante finds that no matter what, he wants this.

Forever if he can have it.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this fic! Thank you for bearing with me and sharing your enjoyment with me~

There's no immediate solution to everything, that's not how life works.

Despite the magnetic pull he feels towards Vergil and vice versa, they don't know each other, and Dante doesn't know the rest of his family. He doesn't know his home country, and he doesn't know their customs.

During that first meal, he sits down at an elegant table, with more food than he's ever seen before in his life, and a myriad of spoons and knives and forks in front of him and feels hopelessly lost. He glances around as his family members—his family!—get served one by one and start eating, deftly picking what Dante _assumes_ is the correct utensil. Meanwhile Dante stares at his full place and the many forks and doesn't know what to do.

It's just the first of many culture clashes that happen, even just within the first day. Dante had almost expected that his family would be upset and angry with him for not knowing better, but instead it's much worse. He sees grief on their faces, and shadows of years of torment caused by his absence.

He's felt it too, he knows... But he's also been spared, because he didn't know what, who, he was missing.

Still, he's lucky that they remain patient and soon they start teaching him all that fancy nonsense he'll now have to learn, regardless of what kind of bullshit it is.

He wears Vergil's clothes even as they call for a seamstress to make him clothes of his own.

It's almost uncomfortable how comfortable these clothes are, and Dante feels entirely out of place in them.

The family structure is another thing.

He has a kid.

An adult kid, but still a kid.

He looks at Nero, can see the resemblances to Vergil—and thus himself—and wonders how he didn't see it immediately. Still, he takes the kid's offer of some sparring, well aware of the way Vergil's gaze rests on him at all times, to try and burn off some excess nervous energy.

It's the most fun he's had in years.

He has little finesse in comparison, but he's also less predictable, going entirely by feeling and intuition, without any notions of how it _should_ be, due to a lack of instruction.

And then Vergil, unable to sit by and watch any longer, gets involved.

Dante happily takes the ass-kicking, and swears that he'll get better. He'll learn to harness his power properly, he _will._

#

"Yeah, it got pretty rough out there," Dante says, rolling his neck with a small cracking sound. "If I hadn't had a few good friends willing to trade favours or outright just give me food and a room on occasion, I probably would have died years ago."

He says it casually, unthinking of the kind of bombshell it would turn out to be.

Eva drops her wineglass. It crashes against the floor, wine spilling and glass shattering. Dante jumps in his seat, takes in the pale-faced horror of his family— _his family_ —and scratches his head, uncomfortable.

"What?" he says with a wince.

"We just don't like to think about how easily it could have come to pass that we'd never find you." Sparda's face is grave as he reaches out and takes his wife's hand.

"Well, I'm fine, so what's the problem?" Dante forces a laugh and a casual shrug, devil may care attitude firmly in place.

There's no time for what-ifs on the streets of Andelia. It's do or die, for the most part.

"Did you ever have migraines?" Nero suddenly blurts, fork still half-way to his mouth, frozen.

Dante blinks at him, before his eyebrows knit together and his eyes narrow. "How the hell did you know about the migraines? Nevan used to bug me about taking her up on illegally renting her basement because she worried about them... Did _she_ tell you about them?"

Nero shakes his head almost violently.

"I had them too. They would sometimes wipe me out for an entire day. How _did_ you deal with them?" Vergil reaches out and takes hold of Dante's wrist, needing reassurance that he's truly there, not just a figment of his destabilised mind.

"They could get pretty bad. I usually lucked out and had them when they posed no real danger. Though I did end up in a bad state once since it hit me outside during winter and I hadn't found shelter yet." He shrugs again, still casual about the threats to his life. "If I hadn't eaten just the day before, I probably wouldn't have made it. But it did set me back money-wise since I had to eat the day after too because of how I was outside in freezing temperatures all night."

"Eat... You did not eat daily?" Eva's voice is faint.

Dante shrugs again, glancing at Vergil's hand as it tightened around his wrist. "Usually I eat about once a week, really. Twice if I'm lucky, though sometimes I've had to go two weeks on one meal."

He takes in the facial expressions around him, ranging from grave to horrified, and shrugs a third time. "I had magic to burn. Without it... yeah, I wouldn't have made it." He looks away from them. "I've been lucky to have all this inherent magic."

#

Three days later, Dante feels better than he... ever has, really. Since as far back as he can remember. He's wearing comfortable clothes, he's been sleeping in a great bed next to someone he feels like he should spend all his time with, someone he feels like he's been missing his entire life without knowing it.

So, he feels good. But he also feels cooped up, he usually doesn't spend so much time indoors within the same space at a time.

"Hey, so, I'm going out for a bit, I think," he says after breakfast on the third day.

"Not alone, I'm coming with you." Vergil's tone brooks no arguments, but Dante has no complaints about company, so he just shrugs.

He goes down to talk to Nevan, and brings both Nero and Vergil with him. Trish—his cousin, apparently—comes along as some form of bodyguard, even though none of them need it.

"Hey, Nevan. I'm _Dante."_ He places as much emphasis he can on his Name, just to make sure she realises what he means.

Nevan eyes light up and she jumps the bar to throw herself around Dante's neck. She kisses him soundly on the cheek before she whispers in his ear: "I suspected something when I saw the kid. He looks so much like you that I just knew that it had to be something like that. I'm so happy for you."

Vergil, stiff and uncomfortable—and jealous, though he would never admit as much—inclines his head at her. "I understand that I am in your debt for the life of my brother."

Considering that Vergil is a _King,_ that is something very important indeed. Then again, unless Nevan has kept up properly with the news—which, who knows, she might have—she probably doesn't know that.

"He's been a good friend to me, and I have what I need. I see no debt between us."

Vergil looks less than pleased at the notion, but accepts her words at face value.

Dante enjoys the time in the Purple Lantern, getting to show his brother, his twin, his _other half,_ bits and pieces of his life. A place that means something to him.

Nevan even lets them go down into the basement so Dante can show where he's been sleeping on occasion.

Vergil looks unimpressed, but Dante also spies a hint of relief on his stony face—probably because Nevan's basement really is pretty damn comfortable and cosy.

He smiles, it hasn't all been drab and horrible.

#

Dante knows it will take time for things to settle into something proper.

It will take time before he'll be even half-way ready to take on the burden that is ruling...

But he knows... He knows he can do it.

As long as his family is with him.

It's unbearably cheesy and Vergil would probably pull a horrified and offended face if Dante ever said it out loud, but it's true.

They'll move forward together...

And Arkham will get every bit of pain that's coming to him as soon as the trial is over.

Dante can't wait and he knows Vergil shares that sentiment.

#

Peace settles over the Kingdoms of the world again.

Escana is free from the grief it has suffered the past thirty-five years.

Lady has regained her birthright.

A family has been reunited.

And the Twin Prince has finally come home.


End file.
